Just You and Me
by kq551
Summary: It didn't take much to make Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley friends. But actions can have long reaching consequences, and their relationship was no exception. Takes place from the Chamber of Secrets to post-Deathly Hallows. Summary inside.
1. A Floo Mishap

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: _Just You and Me_ starts off at the beginning of _Chamber of Secrets_, and explores what could have happened if Harry had paid attention to Ginny earlier then in canon. _

_._

_Time for the warnings — if you feel that you don't need them, than skip down to the start of the story, because they are spoilers. For those who do want warnings, this story contains (in no particular order):_

_Sexual content (consensual and nonconsensual, nothing graphic), character death, swearing, pedophilia, and perhaps a few other things that I can't think of at the moment._

_If at any time you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM (or leave a review, my PM option periodically disables itself). _

ooo

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to the Harry Potter series except my set of books and DVDs.

**Chapter One: A Floo Mishap**

Memories and thoughts were flashing through twelve-year old Harry Potter's sleeping mind. Making a soft noise, he rolled over onto his side.

_A pale, snake-like man was making his way through a house, raising his wand at Harry's parents. There was a flash of green light, Lord Voldemort stepped over Lilly Potter's dead body and raised his wand to Harry's forehead...Years went by, Harry grew up with a family that didn't want him, and was completely neglected. Then everything changed on his eleventh birthday, in the form of the huge Hagrid, uttering four words in his gruff voice that Harry would remember forever:_

_"Harry — yer a wizard_

_Then he was getting gold from Gringotts, and shopping for books, robes, and receiving his beautiful snow-white owl, Hedwig...getting his wand, which for some reason shared it's core with Voldemort's wand...boarding Hogwarts Express, meeting Ron Weasley, who would become his friend...watching out the window as a girl with red hair ran along with the train for a few seconds...confronting Draco Malfoy...and someone, he couldn't remember who, welcoming him to Hogwarts, the great castle and school that was more a home to him then number four, Privet Drive had been and would ever be...begging the sorting hat to put him into Gryffindor, instead of Slytherin which it had originally suggested and getting his wish...befriending Muggle-born Hermione Granger...the teachers, stern but kind Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor...stuttering, almost silly, Professor Quirrell who turned out to have Voldemort on the back of his head...the sadistic Professor Snape who seemed to have a immense dislike for Harry...and of course, Professor Dumbledore, kind and great Headmaster of Hogwarts. There was Quidditch, in which he preformed spectacularly on his Nimbus Two Thousand, Fluffy, and the trap door...and the Mirror of Erised, which showed him his heart's greatest desire, his parents. Dumbledore had assured him it was being moved away. Then there was the plot to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and the revelation that Voldemort was most definitely not dead. And then the year was winding down, and back to Hogwarts Express so he could leave the school._

_And then suddenly the dream ventured into a different realm. He was running down a long corridor, holding someone in his arms. He was at Hogwarts, but had never been in this corridor before. This wasn't a memory anymore. One thought kept flashing through his head as a woman cackled madly in the background._

_I need...I need...I need...I need —_

"BOY! I NEED YOU TO GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was back at number four, Privet Drive, and Vernon Dursley, his uncle, was hollering at him. With a sigh, he fumbled for his glasses on the side of the bed, groping around until he grasped their frame and gently put them on. Pulling on his clothes, he quickly ran downstairs.

Breakfast at the Dursleys started out bad and, as usual, got worse. Hedwig was causing enough commotion that Uncle Vernon was liable to throw her out of the house, and Harry accidentally said 'Magic", the forbidden word (never mind that he was just asking Dudley to say please).

And he had actually allowed himself to get his hopes up for a instant that the Dursleys remembered that this day was his twelfth birthday. Of course, Uncle Vernon's announcing that it was a special day today had nothing to do with Harry's birthday and everything to do with a dinner party that night with someone he hoped to do business with, and that man's wife. And Harry was be in his bedroom, making no noise and pretending he wasn't there. So he resigned himself to spending a birthday in his room, with nothing from his friends. Nothing at all. He turned to flop down on his bed —

Only to find someone else sitting on it.

Harry barely managed to control a scream that had threatened to slip past his lips at the sight of the creature in front of him.

It was small, wore a pillowcase, and had tennis ball-sized green eyes. Now that he thought of it, he had seen _something _watching him out of a garden hedge earlier that morning. It must have been this..._thing_.

Harry could hear Dudley welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Mason, the guests, into the house. Harry must not make any noise. He fixed his eyes on the thing residing on his bed.

"Er — hello," he said nervously.

The creature slid of the bed and began talking in a alarmingly loud voice.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature ecstatically. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir...such a honor it is."

Harry was momentarily at a loss for words. "Th — thank you," he said, while moving from the bed to the chair. "Wha —"

He stopped himself before he asked what the creature was; it might sound too rude. "Who are you?" he asked instead.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," the creature said.

This conversation had started out odd, and was only getting even more surreal. A house-elf, in a Muggle's home?

"Oh — really?" said Harry feebly. "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

As his aunt laughed downstairs, Dobby hung his head, looking pitiful.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, and the elf perked up, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you sir…it is difficult, sir…Dobby wonders where to begin…."

"Sit down," said Harry politely, indicating the bed.

To his great horror, Dobby burst into some of the loudest tears that Harry had ever heard.

"S-sit down! Never…never ever…" Dobby wailed.

Harry was sure he heard the voices downstairs falter a bit. Thinking he had offended the elf, he backed up a bit.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —"

"Offend Dobby! Dobby has _never _been asked to sit down by a wizard — like a _equal_ —"

"Shh!" Harry whispered frantically, leading a hiccupping Dobby back to the bed.

The rest of the his talk with Dobby the house-elf did not end up well. While Harry gained insights into Dobby's life, such as the fact that he had to punish himself regularly, Dobby told him that he must not go back to Hogwarts. He would be in grave danger if he did.

"Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it?" Harry asked at one point.

"Not — not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_, sir," Dobby replied, in a tone that he was giving Harry a hint.

But that was about the most useful thing he got out of Dobby. He found out that the elf had been intercepting and stealing all the letters he had been getting, from Ron, Hermione, even Hagrid. In the struggle that ensued to get the letters back, Dobby used a Hover Charm to drop Aunt Petunia's pudding from the ceiling. The Masons were frighted out of the Dursley's house by a owl that had come from the Ministry of Magic. It ha come to inform him that he could be expelled if he used magic again. Not that he _had_ used magic, but there was no one he could tell about the strange house-elf. And, as if things couldn't possibly get worse, his fabrication that he could use magic out of school came crashing down around his ears. Uncle Vernon locked him in his room and put bars on the window, and informed him that he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts. Ever. And if he used magic to escape, then he'd be expelled. Uncle Venron thought he had Harry trapped good, and Harry had to grudgingly agree. He couldn't think how he was possibly going to go back to Hogwarts.

Fortunately, help came soon, and in a most unusual and unexpected fashion.

Harry was in the middle of a dream where he was locked in a cage, in a zoo. Dobby was standing outside and shouting, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" And someone was rattling the bars of the cage.

"Stop it," he muttered, now half awake. "Leave me alone...cut it out...I'm trying to sleep..."

When it persisted, he opened one eye a sliver, then both wide-open in shock. Seeming hovering outside of the window was a familiar face: Ron Weasley, with his red hair and freckles.

"_Ron!_" Harry exclaimed. "Ron, how did you — what the —?"

But then he saw. Impossibly, parked in midair was a Ford Anglia, with the mischievous twins Fred and George at the wheel.

"All right, Harry?" asked George (At least Harry thought it was George; it was next to impossible to tell the two apart).

"What's been going on?" interjected Ron. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles —"

"It wasn't me — and how did he know?" asked Harry.

"He works for the Ministry," answered Ron. "You _know_ we're not supposed to do spells outside of school —"

Harry looked at Ron, and then at the obviously magical car he was sitting in.

"You should talk," he said.

"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron. "It's Dad's, _we_ didn't enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles —"

The next few minutes were filled with Harry protesting that he did not do any magic, Fred and George tying a rope around the bars and using the car to rip them off, and the twins sneaking into the house and stealing Harry's school supplies, broom and wand back from the Dursleys. Harry was just climbing onto the windowsill and to the car when there was a loud screech and a deafening bellow in Uncle Vernon's voice:

"THAT RUDDY OWL!"

Harry had forgotten Hedwig in his excitement to be free, and she had protested, alerting Uncle Vernon.

"I've forgotten Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed.

A mad scramble ensued in which he managed, but just barely, to grab Hedwig's cage and get into the car. As it soared into the air, he was free. While Fred guided the car, they discussed the Dobby incident.

"I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you from coming back to Hogwarts," said Fred. "Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," said both Harry and Ron.

By the time they touched down, they had concluded that Draco Malfoy had sent Dobby to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been one of Voldemort's Death Eaters, and had gotten off using large amounts of Galleons. As Harry got out of the car he stopped, amazed. They were at the Weasley's house, the Burrow; a tall and rickety building that had to be held together by magic, and was the most fantastic house Harry had ever seen.

"It's not much," said Ron apologetically, misinterpreting the look on Harry's face.

"It's _wonderful_," Harry said with a grin.

Fred and George motioned towards a door, and they all walked over to it very stealthily; Fred went over the plan that they had worked out.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," whispered Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!', and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."

Harry could see several gaping holes in that plan, but decided to keep them to himself for the moment. Ron wheeled around to him, all excited.

"Right," he said. "Come on Harry, I sleep at the top —"

He stopped speaking suddenly, his eyes fixed on a point behind Harry, Slowly Harry and twins turned around. It was Mrs. Weasley, looking for all the world like some kind of short, plump predator.

"_Ah_," said Fred.

"Oh, dear," echoed George.

Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of them, her wand sticking ominously out of her flowered apron.

"_So_," she said.

"Morning, Mum," said George in his most winning voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" Mrs. Weasley whispered. Harry took a step back, anticipating what would happen next.

"Sorry Mum," Fred said, "but we had to —"

All three Weasley children cowered as their mother started screaming at them. Harry thought it would go on for hours, and started feeling a little guilty; they _were _getting in trouble for rescuing him. after all. Then Mrs. Weasley turned on Harry, who hastily backed away.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said in a much sweeter tone then he had been expecting. "Come in and have some breakfast."

Ron lead Harry into their cramped kitchen, which had a wooden table in the middle. A magical clock was on the wall across from him, with events instead of times. As Mrs. Weasley was adding copious amounts of food to Harry's plate, she was also lecturing the twins, who were protesting.

"It was _cloudy_, Mum!" said Fred.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but George has said the magic words, and Mrs. Weasley started cutting and buttering bread for Harry.

Suddenly a small, long red-haired girl dashed down the stairs, clothed in a very light pink nightdress with a flower pattern. As she came to a stop at the table, Harry remembered with a small jolt that she was the girl at the train in his dream.

"Mummy," she said, "have you seen my —"

Suddenly she noticed that Harry was sitting at the table, and her eyes became as wide as saucers.

"Hello," Harry said.

A startled, almost frightened expression was on her face she backed away and ran up the stairs, her flaming red hair trailing behind her, Harry's eyes tracking her all the way up. After she disappeared from sight, he looked back at Ron, confused.

"What did I do?" Harry asked.

"Ginny," Ron explained, "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said, grinning.

In Harry's opinion the three Weasley children had gotten off light on the subject on punishment: de-gnoming the garden, which turned out to be quite odd, was not a serious punishment compared to some of what he could get at the Dursleys. He had actually volunteered to help with the de-gnoming, and had not gotten into any trouble at all. The same could not be said for Mr. Arthur Weasley. While he was delighted to see Harry and eager to know how well the car flew, he lacked his wife's anger about the joyride, something Molly Weasley was _not _happy about.

"Come on, I'll show you my bedroom," Ron murmured to Harry.

Leaving the two adults to fight it out, Harry and Ron climbed up a uneven staircase that led bedrooms. When Harry neared the third floor he noticed that a door was open. Someone with bright brown eyes was looking out at them. As Harry got closer, the person to who the pair of eyes belonged to whirled around and dashed back in the room, bumping the top of her head on the door frame and emitting a small squeak of pain in the process.

Ginny.

"Ginny," said Ron, as if Harry couldn't figure out who it was. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally —"

"— Ron," interjected Harry, "I'll follow you up in a minute."

Ron shrugged and walked up the stairs to his room. Harry made sure to note where it was.

Harry walked over to the slightly open door and knocked on it. When there was no reply he pushed it a bit more open and slipped in. It was a nice room, with magical wallpaper, a nice view out the window, and a bed with a certain long-haired redhead sitting on it. Ginny's eyes went wide once again.

"Hi," Harry said. "You're Ginny?"

Ginny nodded her head.

"It's nice to meet you."

Again she nodded her head a bit, apparently at a loss for words.

"I'm Harry," he stated needlessly; of course Ginny knew who he was. He looked into her brown eyes. "Your head okay? That was a nasty bump."

Ginny nodded again, and opened her mouth as though she was about to speak, but forgot how to perform that simple task. Finally, she seemed to regain her voice.

"Um — yes, it's, ah, fine," Ginny babbled, her eyes still wide and large.

"So, you're going to Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked.

Ginny gave one of her now commonplace tiny nods of the head.

Harry stood there for a moment, standing just inside the doorway, with Ginny sitting on her bed, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, maybe I should go," said Harry. "Ron — you know —"

Ginny just sat there, not looking him in the eyes, and Harry smiled at her before walking out of the room and gently closing the door. he had no idea of the bitter disappointment that Ginny was feeling as he walked up the twisting staircase to Ron's room. Ginny had carefully and painstakingly planned out the moment she would mean the great Harry Potter, and it had all gone horribly, horribly wrong.

As soon as Harry had left her room, Ginny threw her pillow across the bedroom as hard as she could. It hit the opposite wall, made a angry screech in protest, and flopped around on the floor for a few minutes before being still at last: Ginny paid it no heed. She had been waiting, listening and figuring out, using _every _scrap of information she could get, all to find out when she would meet Harry Potter. She had _everything_ planned out for that day, her best clothes, maybe even a bit of makeup (if she could knick some from her mum). Instead, her dear brothers had decided to go and grab Harry Potter and bring him home to the Burrow_ without even telling her_. Because of them, her first meeting with him was in her stupid nightdress. Returning the pillow to the bed, she gave a loud sigh which was echoed by the pillow. She then flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, taking a very long time to fall asleep.

The next few days were the best that Harry had ever experienced, outside of Hogwarts, anyway. Mr. Weasley peppered Harry with dozens of amusing questions about Muggles, and Mrs. Weasley made fantastic meals, particularly breakfast. It was interesting, whenever Harry sat down for a meal, Ginny panicked, the most notable occasion being when she knocked her porridge bowl over onto the floor with a loud clatter; she retrieved the bowl with her face immersed in yet another spectacular blush.

A moment later Mrs. Weasley walked into the cramped kitchen, school letters in hand. They consisted of the usual assortment: Where to meet the Hogwarts Express (King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters), what robes would be needed for the year, and so on. Then came the list of required new books.

**SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:**

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti _by Gilderoy Lockhart

Fred peered over at Harry's list, having finished looking over his own.

"You've been told to get all of Lockhart's books, too!" he exclaimed. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch."

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," Mrs. Weasley said, looking worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Harry saw what looked like disappointment flicker across Ginny's face for a second, before vanishing. Of course, Harry realized, she would be ecstatic about going to Hogwarts, but that would be slightly dimmed by the prospect of arriving with older and more tattered supplies. Harry smiled reassuringly at her; Ginny responded by sticking her elbow in the butter dish and blushing furiously.

After the meal was over, Harry approached Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes, dear?" she said absentmindedly, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast.

"Um," Harry said, feeling awkward. "You see, I heard — the books — and, er, I mean, I don't need all the Galleons I have at Gringotts…."

He trailed off, hoping that Mrs. Weasley was catching his drift. He knew the Weasleys were terribly short on money, considering the size of their family, and he had more gold then he knew what to do with and wanted. So maybe they could split his account with their account —

"Oh, no dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You'll need that gold soon enough, and we're doing just fine."

And from that point Mrs. Weasley became suspiciously hard of hearing if Harry tired to bring the subject up again.

It was on the following Wednesday that they all prepared to go to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a flower pot and walked over to the assembled group.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today...Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear."

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry started at the patterned pot. What was this?

"W — what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," Rod said suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground —"

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley excitedly. "Were there _escapators_? How exactly —"

"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"

"He'll be alright, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."

Fred grabbed a pinch of the powder the resided in the flower pot, and stepped up to the fireplace. He threw it into the flames, and they roared up; bright green and tall. Fred stepped right into the fire without getting burnt at all, and yelled, "Diagon Alley!", to which he promptly vanished.

George followed his twin into the fire, and suddenly the Weasleys were pelting Harry with instructions which, while well meant and intended to get him to safely end up at the right grate, was really quite confusing.

Finally, it was time: He walked over to the edge of the fire and threw his pinch of powder into the flames, which leapt up with a roar. Taking a deep, calming breath, he walked into the flames. Instead of feeling like he was on fire he had the sensation that a warm breeze was passing over him. Feeling more confident, he opened his mouth to speak — and inhaled a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed. He then felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain, and the Burrow was swept away from him. He was spinning around, knocking his arms against something — and then he fell face-down on a cold stone floor. As he pushed his slightly crushed glasses back up on his nose and glanced around. Evil-looking masks and human bones adorned the walls around him, and from what he could see through the shop's window he was definitely _not _in Diagon Alley.

_A/N: Hope you liked the first chapter. I will try to keep updating as quickly as I can, but with the end of summer coming I have no idea how often that will be. I'm not one of the people who ask for a certain number of reviews before updating, but I will say it _is_ motivating and helpful to get reviews. So, if you would take a few seconds to give a review, much appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but please, no flames. Anonymous reviews are allowed._


	2. Robes, Books and Malfoys

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: It has been mentioned in reviews that the plot of the story is sticking closely to the plot of the book. As the reviewer Grandmaster said, "We know what happened in JK Rowlings version." I am trying my best to vary it from the book right now, but during the course of the second year there may not be as much difference as there will be in the following years, although I will make as many fairly big ones as I can. If it weren't for a few important events during the second and third year, I might have started at the fourth (that's where I'm able to think of the most plot deviations).  
But for now, please just try and stick with it, and it _will _get more original and (hopefully) better._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

_-_

**Chapter Two: Robes, Books and Malfoys**

Back in the Burrow, the Weasleys (minus Fred and George) were staring at the fireplace.

"Do you think he did alright?" asked Mrs. Weasley anxiously, wringing her hands.

"It didn't sound as though he said the name right," said Mr. Weasley gravely. "I do hope that he only missed by a grate or two. Molly, Ron, did you hear what he said?"

Both Mrs. Weasley and Ron shook their heads: They hadn't heard exactly what Harry had said.

Suddenly Ginny felt a rush of adrenaline. She _had_ heard what Harry has said; she had been watching him closely. She felt her usual bravery and courage, which annoyingly decided to hide whenever Harry was within ten miles of her, return. She dashed forward, her pinch of Floo powder gripped tightly in her hand. Throwing it into the fire and leaping in after it, she said, "D-Dia-gon Alley," in her best imitation of what Harry had coughed out.

She felt the familiar sensation of being sucked into the fire, and distantly heard her mother shout, "Ginny!", and she was swirling around, but it was different then when she had used the Floo Network before; she was definitely not headed towards the right grate. She ended up falling out of the same grate Harry had fallen out of−and landing right on top of Harry, knocking the air out of him. Wincing, Harry managed to half-rollover onto one side, allowing him to see who was on top of him. To his great surprise, it was Ginny.

"How−", he stated to say, but Ginny made a frantic motion to quite down. "How did you get here?", he whispered. "And where are we?"

Ginny opened and closed her mouth for a few seconds before answering, trying to overcome her shyness and retain the bravery she had shown only a mere moment ago.

"I followed you though the Floo Network," Ginny said. "You took a wrong turn. And I don't know where−"

Ginny stopped herself. She _did_ know where they were. Her father had told her about a store that she was never to go into, a store that sold all types of dark, morbid items.

"I _do_ know where we are," Ginny corrected herself. "We're in Borgin and Burkes, a nasty dark shop in Knockturn Alley, another bad place. This isn't good for us to be here."

Harry was about to respond when Ginny slapped a hand over his mouth, silencing him. She withdrew it immediately, blushing immensely, but she had seen something. The door to the shop opened and two people waked in: Draco Malfoy, and a older man with facial features that closely resembled Draco, in addition to pale blond hair that fell past his shoulders; he had to be Draco's father.

"That's Lucius Malfoy," Ginny said, pointing at the long-haired man that had walked in, recognizing him from an unpleasant encounter her dad had with him.

Draco's hand moved towards a glass eye, but Lucius slapped it away in a instant.

"Touch nothing, Draco."

Draco glanced at his father. "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

Lucius started drumming his fingers on the counter. "I said I would buy you a racing broom."

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" Draco said. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor."

Ginny's eyes widened. Harry had a Nimbus Two Thousand? One of the best brooms for sale? And she was stuck with stealing Fred and George's Cleansweep Fives.

"He's not even that good," Draco continued, "it's just because he's _famous_...famous for having a stupid _scar _on his forehead..."

Both Harry and Ginny stifled back a chuckle at the sulky expression on Draco's face; Draco went back to examining the objects lying around the store.

"...everyone thinks he's so _smart_, wonderful _Potter_ with his _scar_ and his _broomstick_−"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Lucius, looking at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not−prudent−to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear−ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man with greasy black hair had chosen that moment to appear behind the counter.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin. "Delighted−and young Master Malfoy, too−charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced−"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," Lucius said.

The smile faded from Borgin's face. "Selling?"

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Lucius, taking a some parchment from his robes and unrolling it for Borgin to see. "I have a few−ah−items at home that might embarrasses me, if the Ministry were to call...."

Ginny raised her head slightly. If she could overhear something, maybe she could be of some help to her dad.

Borgin started looking down the list.

"The Ministry woudln't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

"I have not been visited yet," Lucius said, his lip curled. "The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows every more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act−no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it−"

Harry felt a surge of anger, and only when Ginny moved to get up did he remember she was there. He grabbed her hand to pull her back down before she tried to do something that she would regret; she fell back on top of him, making a small noise as her foot brushed a shelf. Lucius's head snapped around in their general direction, looking for the source of the noise. Borgin looked in that direction too.

"It's probably that cursed axe," Borgin said. "Keeps trying to slice up all the shrunken heads."

Apparently satisfied with this explanation, Lucius turned back to his list. "As you see, certain of these poisons might make it _appear_−"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Borgin. "Let me see..."

"Can I have _that_?" interrupted Draco, pointing at a withered hand propped up on a cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Borgin. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Lucius coldly.

"No offense, sir, no offense meant−" said Borgin quickly.

"Though if his grades don't pick up," continued Lucius even more coldly, "that may indeed by all he is fit for−"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco, looking angry. "The teachers all have their favorites, that Hermione Granger−"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," Lucius snapped.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath. It was then that he realized quite how close he and Ginny were together. To avoid detection, they were both in a small corner that really would be more appropriate for one person to hide in, and it was uncomfortably cramped. He lost track of the conversation over the next few minutes, watching Draco Malfoy closely, wondering if he was going to buy something and bring it to Hogwarts. Draco read, smirking, a card propped up on a necklace of opals, and Harry strained his eyes to try and read it too.

_Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed−Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date_.

"Done," said Lucius, startling both Harry and Draco. "Come, Draco. Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

Lucius opened the door, and he and Draco exited the shop. Harry and Ginny took the noise of the closing scuttle out of their hiding place, and get closer to the door. Luckily for them, Borgin turned and walked off towards the back room, muttering, "Good day yourself _Mister_ Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your _manor_...."

Harry grabbed Ginny's hand without thinking, and led her out of the shop. He soon discovered that Ginny was right, Knockturn Alley was a bad place to be in, especially if you were underage. Many people were staring at them, and a few were closing in; a aged, but wicked-looking, witch suddenly appeared right next to them.

"Not lost are you, my dears?"

When her smile exposed her mossy teeth, Harry backed away, still holding Ginny's hand.

"I'm fine, thanks−"

Ginny was watching Harry. Was he going to do something, or was he just going to stand there? He had a _wand_, for Merlin's sake. Seeing that he wasn't about to do anything but back away, she used her free hand to grab Harry's wand out of his pocket. She brandished it at the old witch threateningly, who backed off. Harry looked from the witch to his wand, and then to Ginny. He grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, I forgot−"

Harry was interrupted by a deem, booming voice he recognized as Hagrid's.

"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there? And who's that yer got with yeh?"

When Harry saw Hagrid, he breathed a sigh of relief. They couldn't be hurt, not if they were with him.

"Hagrid! I was lost−Floo powder−Ginny came looking−"

Hagrid lumbered over to them, and started to escort them out of Knockturn Alley; all the residents were giving the trio a wide birth. Hagrid turned his gigantic head down to look at Harry and Ginny.

"Ginny, eh? A Weasley, are yeh? Yer startin' Hogwarts this year?"

Ginny nodded meekly. She did not know Hagrid, and his huge frame and booming voice was more then a little intimidating; he was also well over twice Ginny's height. Hagrid gave a giant smile and clapped Ginny on the shoulder, accidentally knocking her to the ground. Muttering apologies, he extended one of his dustbin-sized hands, which she tentatively grasped, and he pulled her back onto her feet.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Ginny mumbled something incoherently. Hagrid looked critically at Harry.

"Yer a mess!" he exclaimed, forcefully brushing soot off of Harry. "Skullkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno−dodgy place, Harry−don' want no one ter see yeh down there−"

"I realized _that_," said Harry, dodging another one of Hagrid's attempts to brush the dust off of him. "I told you, I was lost, Ginny−what were _you_ doing down there, anyway?"

"_I_ was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent. They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own, are yeh?" he said, with a questioning glance at Ginny.

"I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "We've got to go and find them..."

They all set off down the street, Ginny still looking wary of Hagrid. They all had to jog to keep up with Hagrid's enormous strides, especially poor Ginny, who was smaller then Hagrid and Harry.

"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" Hagrid asked.

Harry launched into a story that encompassed Dobby the house-elf, the Dursleys locking Harry inside his room, and the flying car. Hagrid wasn't the only one paying attention to his tale: Ginny never got to hear exactly what happened.

"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known−"

"Harry! Harry! Over here!

Harry looked up and saw Hermione on the flight of steps that led up to Gringotts, racing towards him.

"What happened to your glasses? Hello Hagrid−And you're Ginny, Ron's told me about you, it's great to meet you, _wonderful_ to see you two again−Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

Hermione looked short of breath after her statment, and was clearly ecstatic to see Harry again.

"As soon as we've found the rest of the Weasleys," said Harry.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said, grinning.

Harry, Hermoine and Ginny looked around: Sprinting up the street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry, Ginny," Mr. Weasley panted. "We _hoped_ that you two had only gone one grate too far...Molly's frantic−she's coming now−"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," answered Hagrid grimly.

"_Excellent_!" Fred and George said in unison.

"You were in there with my little sister? We've never been allowed in," said Ron in a voice that held traces of both anger and envy.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

At that moment Mrs. Weasley came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand.

"_Ginevra Molly Weasley_! What were you thinking running into that fire?"

Mrs. Weasley was red in the face from running. It only took a quick glance to see that she was not happy with Ginny's behavior, so Harry decided to come to her defense.

"Mrs. Weasley, Ginny helped me get out of there−really−"

Mrs. Weasley stopped admonishing Ginny and blinked at him; apparently she hadn't noticed he was there in the rush to find Ginny.

"Oh, Harry−_well_−you two could have been anywhere−"

Still gasping for breath, she pulled out a large clothes brush and swept the rest of the soot off of Harry, and then off of Ginny as well. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses and fixed them with a tap of his wand.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who's hand was being shaken vigorously by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found them, Hagrid!). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And with that he strode off, towering above everyone else in the street.

"Guess who we saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" asked Mr. Weasley asked sharply from behind them.

"No, he was selling−" Harry started to say, but Ginny piped up.

"−He mentioned something about selling poisons."

Ginny looked a bit embarrassed for interrupting Harry, but her father took no notice.

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with a sort of grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley as the group was ushered into the bank by a Goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more then you can chew−"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indigently.

Silently, Harry was inclined to agree with Mrs. Weasley. Draco had boasted a lot about his father at school (although Harry didn't believe that half of it was true). Still, he didn't seem like the kind of person to mess with. Fortunately for everyone involved, Mr. Weasley was distracted by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously; waiting for their daughter to introduce them.

"But you're _Muggles_!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink. What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He was pointing excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as Harry and the Weasleys were led to the underground vaults by a goblin.

Harry had fun speeding down to the Weasleys' vault in one of the small carts that ran along miniature train tracks, but his happy feeling vanished when their vault was opened. Their vault was the opposite of his: Where his had giant piles of gold Galleons, theirs had only a small pile of silver Sickles and only a single Galleon. Harry felt as though he had kept pocket money that was as much as they had, and Mrs. Weasley actually felt around into the corners of the vault to check for more money before sweeping everything they had into her bag. When they reached Harry's vault he tried to block the contents while he shoved handfuls of Galleons into his leather bag. He felt even worse now, and wished that she had accepted his offer.

Back out of the vaults and onto the marble steps, they started to separate. Percy muttered something about needing a new quill, and Fred and George has spotted a friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were about to split off when Mrs. Weasley called out to them.

"Harry, would you mind coming with us while we get Ginny some robes?"

Harry stopped in his tracks. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Weasley did not want to let him out of her sight after the Floo incident.

"Er−sure. Where are we going? Madam Malkin's?"

Harry saw what he thought might have been a trace of embarrassment appear for a moment on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"No, it's called Master Willson's Secondhand Robes and Clothes. It's a bit−less expensive−there."

Suddenly Harry had a thought. Maybe...Just maybe...

Harry said, "Mrs. Weasley, why don't we go to Madam Malkin's?", at the same time as Ron said, "Do we have to? We were going to go to the joke shop and−and..."

Ron's voice trailed off with the look Mrs. Weasley gave him. Being decidedly more gentle to Harry then she was to Ron, Mrs. Weasley said, "I'm sorry, dear, but we need to get the robes−"

"−But Madam Malkin's has a secondhand robes section." Harry interjected. He actually wasn't quite positive of the fact, but was pretty sure he had seen it when he was last there. "_And_ it's closer to Flourish and Blotts then any other robe store, I'll bet. That way once we finish with robes we can have extra time there."

It was true that Madam Malkin's and Flourish and Blotts were very close, but the winning part of the argument was Hermione, who's face lit up at the prospect of getting into the wizarding bookstore earlier then before.

"Oh, can we Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione pleaded.

Finally Mrs. Weasley caved in, and the group walked down the alley to Madam Malkin's, pausing only twice. The first stop was to procure ink and parchment, and a few quills for Ginny. The second stop was at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to get four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams (Mrs. Weasley declined one), which was Harry's treat and a thank-you for rescuing him, despite Mrs. Weasley's protests. While Ginny was concentrating on her ice cream, Harry covertly took a look at the list that Mrs. Weasley had given Ginny, which was now clutched tightly in the eleven-year old's hand. He did his best to commit them to memory, repeating them over and over in his head.

Finally the group reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and filed inside; Hermione stared longingly down Diagon Alley to where Flourish and Blotts was located until Harry grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside. Once inside, everyone set off in differnt directions. There was indeed a secondhand robes section, which Mrs. Weasley took Ginny over to. Hermione was looking at some dress robes with vague interest, and Ron was in a corner, complaining about being stuck in this shop to anyone who would listen−meaning no one. Harry made sure that everyone was reasonably distracted, then walked over to the sales counter. Madam Malkin herself wasn't at the counter, but a short, bearded wizard who had to be an assistant was waiting there.

"Who're you?" the wizard grunted, standing on the tips of his toes to see over the counter.

"Never mind that," Harry said, not wishing to draw attention to himself. "Listen, you see that red-haired girl over there? With that woman?"

He pointed at Ginny and Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, I see 'em," the assistant said, looking a little annoyed. "What 'bout them?"

"That girl needs school robes. I know what robes she needs; I'll pay for them if you'll give them to her and say they won a prize or something. You'll end up getting paid more then if they just bought those robes."

The assistant glared at Harry from behind the counter, obviously wondering why he would go to the trouble to do all that. With a sudden flash of inspiration, Harry pulled out his money bag. He counted out the Galleons that would be needed for the robes, and then put five extra in a separate pile. With a grunt, the assistant scooped most of the Galleons into the magical register and the five into his pocket. He then handed Harry a small piece of blank parchment and a quill. Harry blinked and looked back up at the assistant, who sighed.

"You're goin' to write down what you're payin' for, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry mumbled, and quickly scribbled down the types of robes, glad he had been able to memorize them.

The assistant took a look at the list, gave yet another grunt, and took out a short wand. "I'll get to it in second or two."

Harry took this as his cue to leave, and wandered over to Hermione, who was immersed in a large book entitled, _Robes Throughout the Rise and Fall of Grindelwald: A Exercise in Fashion Repression?_

He raised a questioning eyebrow at Hermione. "'_A Exercise in Fashion Repression?_' And who's Grindelwald?"

Hermione closed the book and gave an exasperated sigh. "'Who's Grindelwald?'" she quoted. "_Honestly _Harry, don't you pay attention to a word of−"

Hermione was interrupted by a loud shriek of surprise. Both she and Harry turned around to find the source of the noise, although Harry had a feeling he knew who caused it and what it was about. The sales assistant was standing across a pile of used robes that lay on the floor from Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, the latter being the person who had given out the loud yell.

"We won _what_?"

"The magical door prize, ma'am. You see, it picked you an' your daughter there out when you walked in. Whatever you're buyin', now it's the best we 'ave and free of charge. Now lemme see that list, ma'am."

The assistant snatched Ginny's robe list out of Mrs. Weasley's limp, surprised hand and pretended to read it.

"Oh, your girl's startin' Hogwarts this year, is she? Well, come on back, We got a good selection."

And the diminutive assistant let a stuttering Mrs. Weasley to a back room. But what made it worth the Galleons Harry had spent was Ginny's expression, which seemed to be stuck somewhere between surprise and delight. Ron hadn't noticed any of this, but Harry saw that Hermione was looking at him funnily.

"What?" he asked.

Hermione lowered the book she was reading to the floor. "Wasn't it _your _idea to come here to Madam Malkin's?"

"Er−yeah, it was. So what?" Harry said a little defensively.

"Oh, nothing. I just don't remember there being a door prize last year when I came here. And what were you doing at that counter?"

"I, ah, was talking. I was bored." Harry knew that excuse sounded pretty pathetic, but he was a bit thrown off; he had thought that Hermione had been absorbed in her book.

"If you say so, Harry," Hermione said indifferently, but the slight smile on her face told Harry that he had not heard the last of it.

"So who is Gridelwalden, anyway?" Harry asked, hoping to change the topic. Hermione sighed again.

"It's _Grindelwald, _not Gridelwalden."

She went on to lecture him for a few minutes about what she had read about Grindelwald, and Harry thought that she would make a better teacher for the History of Magic class then Professor Binns; he actually was able to pay attention to half of what she was saying. She had gotten about half-way though her lecture when Ginny burst out, followed my Mrs. Weasley. They were both carrying bags of robes, and looked extremely happy. The sales assistant followed them out and winked at Harry. From the looks Hermione was giving him throughout the short walk to Flourish and Blotts, Harry was terribly afraid the his friend had caught the wink. Ron was still grumbling about something, most likely about not getting to go to Gambol and Japes Joke Shop.

It was a short trek to Flourish and Blotts, and when they went inside they found it positively packed. There was a huge line of people waiting for Gilderoy Lockhart, who he now remembered was the author of practically his whole booklist, who was signing his autobiography, _Magical Me_. Harry was surprised to see that Hermione jumped into the line immediately, which was quite odd; usually she would have grabbed her school books and then started browsing the store right away. But she wanted to get a autobiography signed? As he looked, Mrs. Weasley was getting in line too, as was Ginny. In fact, pretty much every single witch in the store was standing in line. Grudgingly, Harry joined the line, making sure his bangs were covering his scar; he did not want to be recognized and mobbed. As their place in the line grew closer and closer to Lockhart, Harry was able to get a good look at the man. He was good looking, Harry supposed, but the size and frequency of his smiles were a bit frightening. They were very close now, and Harry lowered his head a bit, fervently praying to get through this without being noticed. Fortunately for him, his prayers were answered, Lockhart was too intent on signing books and smiling to notice Harry. As they grabbed their books and walked away, a voice that he had heard only mere hours ago rang out from behind him, filled with disgust.

"Potter."

Harry wheeled around to find none other than Draco Malfoy, a disgusted sneer on his face. They stood there, Draco obviously searching for some insult or cruel joke. Finally he seemed to settle on Ginny. "Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Potter?"

Harry, who was used to Draco's taunts and insults, found this fairly weak. Ginny, on the other hand, blushed and averted her eyes. Now annoyed, Harry snapped back at him.

"What's the matter, upset because you didn't make the house team at Quidditch? Or because you loose out to a Muggle-born in all classes where you're not sucking up to the professor?"

It was Draco's turn to turn red and sputter, clearly wondering how Harry knew about the conversation he had with his father. Draco thrust is hand into his pocket, grabbing for his wand, and Harry mirrored his actions. But before Draco's wand could clear his pocket something long, with a silver head, forcefully rested itself upon the young Malfoy's shoulder. Upon a closer look, Harry could see that it was a walking stick with a elaborately designed silver snake's head for a handle; the wielder of the walking stick was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"Come now, Draco, let's not fight," Lucius drawled; his eyes traveled over both Ron and Ginny. "Weasleys. There seem to be more of you every year...I do hope that with all the time your father is spending at the Ministry they're paying him more."

Lucius suddenly snatched one of Ginny's books from her cauldron, a old and tattered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, and smirked. "Then again, perhaps not."

After examining it for a few seconds he tossed the book back into the cauldron, that infuriating expression still on his face. "Keep it, girl. I expect it cost your father a month's pay."

Lucius then turned his attention on Harry, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"The Boy Who Lived."

Whipping his walking stick up, he brushed Harry's hair away from his scar. For a moment he stared at it so intensely at it that Harry felt even more uncomfortable then he had before.

"Fascinating," Lucius whispered. "You defeated the greatest wizard of all time, and that's all the proof there is−"

"Voldemort's not a great wizard," Harry blurted out angrily.

Lucius raised both eyebrows. "You must be either very brave, or very foolish to utter the Dark Lord's name. And pray tell, who do _you_ think is the greatest wizard? Surely not Albus Dumbledore."

Lucius's eyes wandered the store until they came to test upon Mr. Weasley, who was consorting with Hermione's parents.

"Muggles," Lucius scoffed, a disgusted expression on his face. "Come, Draco, we don't want to be in the same shop with that filth."

With that, the two Malfoys stalked off, Draco slowing down only to toss as smirking glance over his shoulder at a furious Hermione.

* * *

The encounter with Draco and his father put a bit of a damper on the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley, but by the time they traveled back to the Burrow they had calmed down. The rest of the evening was spent with Harry and Ron verbally abusing the Malfoys, and Ginny quietly listening to the conversation, only joining in occasionally. After dinner they played a small tournament of Exploding Snap, the winner being Ginny, surprisingly. This went on until Mrs. Weasley confiscated the cards and forced them to head to their respective rooms.

Harry flopped down on the bed he had been given in Ron's room, followed shortly by Ron. Neither of them was remotely tired, and they spent the next hour talking, mostly about Quidditch.

"Does Ginny ever play Quidditch?" Harry asked, finally getting sleepy.

"No, she's not allowed," Ron answered. "Too young, and we don't have enough brooms. She seems to like watching it, though."

"She's pretty," Harry said without thinking.

"Yeah, she's−_what_? Pretty?"

Harry froze. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Yeah, she's pretty nice," he said, painfully aware of how pathetic a excuse that was. Fortunately, Ron was too tired to notice.

"Oh, yeah, I guess she is."

"G'night," Harry said quickly. Ron grunted in reply, and rolled over. Pulling the sheets up to his shoulders, Harry wondered why he had said that. Well, she was pretty. And she seemed nice; she just didn't talk much when he was around for some reason. He wondered if they would all be friends at Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione, Ginny...maybe.

And with those thoughts lingering in his mind, Harry drifted off to sleep.

-

_A/N: Hope you liked it. I'll try and update soon, and if you have any support to share or constructive criticism to give, please review._


	3. Sorted

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: Sorry_ _for the wait. I'll be doing my best to update regularly, but with school starting up my time is more limited than I would like._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

**Chapter Three: Sorted **

For once, Harry was sorry to see the summer vacation come to an end. The month he had spend at the Burrow was quite possibly the best month that he could recall having. It was such a welcome change from the Dursleys, and he enjoyed everything, insisting on helping out with household tasks, anything that was related to magic. He was treated to three full meals a day, and he didn't doubt that he was fed more during his stay with the Weasleys then he had been during the whole portion of the summer he had spent with the Dursleys.

Quidditch seemed to be a regular pastime, which Harry eagerly joined in on. It had to be a modified version of the game Harry played at Hogwarts; they only had a few players instead of two full teams. Nevertheless, it was fun. Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand gave him a large advantage, but they played with no Snitch, so Harry was a Chaser, a role he was not familiar with. They would have had more players, but Percy absolutely refused to join in. Ginny looked like she wanted to play, but it was made clear that she was not allowed to.

Harry had enjoyed spending time with Ginny over the summer. She had finally stopped blushing whenever he said something to her, but she still seemed unusually and inexplicably shy to him. Along with Ron, they had many good days.

* * *

Finally, it came time to go to King's Cross. Mr. Weasley had enchanted the Ford Anglia to fit everyone and their luggage. The trip was delayed several times, for everything from fireworks to Ginny's diary. When they finally got there, almost everyone was in a bad mood.

They made it to the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten, carefully steering their trolleys around other pedestrians.

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, and Percy strode through the seemingly solid barrier; he had entered platform nine and three-quarters. Mr. Weasley went next, along with Fred and George.

"I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron. She took Ginny's hand, and they started to enter the barrier. Suddenly something fell out of Ginny's trolley and hit the ground with a thud.

"My diary!" Ginny yelled, and wrenched her hand out out of her mother's grasp. Mrs. Weasley had been walking fast enough that she did not have time to slow down. Her momentum carried her through the barrier; Ginny rushed over to the spot where the book had fallen and picked it up. Harry looked at it curiously. It was about the size of a standard paperback book, black, and had a little fancy gold pattern at the corners. While in good condition, it looked old, yet had a imperceptible air of importance about it.

Putting the diary carefully back in her trolley Ginny looked at the barrier, waiting for her mother to come back out. After a few moments, Mrs. Weasley had not appeared; Harry looked nervously at the giant clock, which was showing that they had less than a minute before the Hogwarts Express departed. Harry elbowed Ron and pointed at the clock significantly.

"It's leaving any second now. We have to go."

Ron nodded and gripped his trolley, prepared to run; Harry did the same, and Ginny imitated him. They set off at a run, pushing the trolleys in front of them, dashing towards the barrier as fast as they could. But when they reached it, instead of passing right through it like Harry expected, all three of them bounced off with a resounding crash, possessions flying everywhere.

They all fell to the ground, the contents of their trolleys lying around them. Hedwig added to the noise, shrieking in protest as her cage bounced away. Passerby stopped to look at them, and a guard yelled at them.

"What d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry said, and grabbed at his chest; he thought he might have bruised a few ribs. Ron grabbed Hedwig's cage and hurried back over to Harry and Ginny.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to Ron.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ginny interjected nervously. Ron shook his head.

"No, I dunno why we can't get through; it's sealed itself or something−"

Ron was interrupted by a loud clanging noise: the clock had struck eleven. The Hogwarts Express had departed without them. Ginny looked frightened at the idea of everything going wrong on her trip to Hogwarts.

"But−Mum and Dad can get back to us, can't they?" she asked hopefully, but Ron slowly shook his head, looking stunned.

"We couldn't get through; I don't know how long it will be until they can get back."

They all looked around. They were still attracting a lot of attention, and people were staring at them.

"I think we'd better go and wait by the car," Harry said. "We're attracting a lot of attention."

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "That's it!"

"What's it?" said Harry, confused.

"We'll fly the car to Hogwarts! Mum and Dad don't need it, they can Apparate. And underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it's an emergency."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced. "D'you know how to fly it?"

"No problem," Ron answered. Ginny made a small coughing noise that sounded like a scoff of disbelief; Ron ignored her. "C'mon."

They walked back to the car, which Ron unlocked with his wand. Their luggage fit in the magically enlarged trunk very well, and they filed into the car. Ron sat in the driver's seat, Harry in the passenger's seat, and Ginny rode in the back. The arrangement was the source of much frustration for Ginny, until Ron pointed out that if she didn't ride in the back seat, Harry would have to.

With another wand tap, the car was turned on. Ron shifted a few gears, and−

"Invisibility Booster!" Ginny said quickly. His ears turning red, Rom pressed a small sliver button on the dashboard. The car vanished, along with them. It was almost like being under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry reflected. Harry could hear Ron fumbling with something, and then they rose up, past the buildings, up into the clouds. At the precise moment the car reached the clouds, there was a resounding _pop_, and they were suddenly visible again.

"It's faulty," Ron said unnecessarily. "So−whoa!"

The car gave a great lurch and fell one hundred feet before Ron managed to level it out, and then attempted to preform a series of rolls and twists; Ron's driving was not superb at all, especially in these challenging of conditions. It was after the twelfth time that Ron almost fell below the clouds, which could reveal them to Muggles, that Ginny got fed up. She unbuckled her belt and carefully poked her head into the front section of the car, right next to Ron.

"Ron, give it to me."

Ron looked at Ginny like she was mad.

"You're−_I'm_ driving this," Ron said. "You can't. You don't know how to."

"And _you_ know how to drive this?" said Ginny skeptically as they did a partial roll.

"You're too−" Ron started, but Ginny brandished her wand threateningly. For the moment she had forgotten that Harry was in the car, and was acting as she would have if it had been just her and Ron in this situation.

"I'll hex you if you don't move," Ginny warned. Ron looked at her nervously.

"You don't know any spells, you haven't been to school−"

"Want to bet?" Ginny said. "Remember my birthday last year?"

As the car gave a lurch, Ron half fell out of the seat, and Ginny used the opportunity to swap places with him, gripping the steering wheel in both hands. Harry watched as she held it steady at times, and moved it a bit to the left, or right, depending on what was needed. Sure enough, the car leveled out and the ride became decidedly more smooth.

"What was that about the birthday?" Harry asked Ginny. Ginny blushed a little, and Ron answered for her.

"Fred and George played a trick on her last year, vanished her presents out of their boxes, so when Ginny opened them there was nothing in them. She wasn't happy−"

"At all," Ginny added.

"−So she grabbed Dad's wand and used some kind of hex on them," Ron continued. "Still not sure where she learned it, but they had giant bats flying out of their noses. It wasn't pretty."

Harry looked at Ginny, mouth hanging slightly open. He didn't know much in the way of hexes, jinxes, or curses, and he had already taken a year at Hogwarts.

"That's impressive, Ginny. How did you learn to do that?"

Ginny blushed at the compliment. "I read about it in a book that was lying around the house. I was angry, and it was just the first thing that came to my mind."

Before Harry could respond, Ron jabbed a finger out the open rear window excitedly.

"There's the Hogwarts Express!"

Ron was correct: they could just make out the outline of a large and very familiar−looking train, the one they should be on right now. With Ginny lightly turning the wheel to the left and accelerating a bit, they sped towards the train. Once they sighted the tracks, Ginny pushed on the pedal so the car was going faster then the train, and they followed the tracks, knowing that they must lead to Hogwarts.

"Ginny, how did you learn to fly this thing?" Harry asked.

"Well−I didn't," Ginny admitted. "But it's obvious how to, isn't it?" she said quickly, seeing the look of panic on Harry's face. "Your turn with the wheel, the pedal over to the right makes you faster, and you use these to allow you to go up and down."

She pointed at the gear selectors, as if it was obvious; Harry was not completely following her explanation.

"You just need to be more gentle then Ron was with it," Ginny finished.

* * *

They rode the rest of the way to Hogwarts quietly, all three feeling nervous about what would happen when they landed. Having discussed the issue for a few minutes, a plan had been formulated: Land the car, park it somewhere safe (they would figure out what to do with it later), and secretly join all the other students coming off the Hogwarts Express. Ginny would go with the First Years, Harry and Ron would meet up with Hermione. It was dark by the time they found Hogwarts.

"I see something−is that what Hogwarts looks like?" Ginny asked.

Harry, having a better view out the windshield then Ron, squinted into the darkness.

"Yeah, that is it! Nice going Ginny."

Ginny didn't say anything, and instead concentrated on finding a suitable landing spot; there was a nice big open patch of ground. They touched down, perhaps a little roughly, but they came to a safe stop.

"Good job−" Harry started to say, but at that moment the doors of the car sprang open and he was unceremoniously ejected from the car. Hitting his head on the ground, he feebly sat up. It appeared Ron and Ginny had suffered the same fate. Hedwig's cage came flying out, the trunk popped open and their luggage was somehow tossed out onto the ground. And then, as suddenly as they had been thrown from the car, all the doors closed, and the car drove off into the Forbidden Forest. They all stared, dumbfounded, at the spot where the car had been.

"Oh no," Ron whimpered. "Dad'll kill me."

Ginny looked equal frightened; she had been the person at the controls.

Harry looked far off into the distance, and thought he saw the Hogwarts Express arrive. Perhaps it was just his imagination because he knew it would be pulling in any minute.

"The train!" Harry hissed. "Here, I got my cloak somewhere in my trunk..."

He fiddled with the latch for a second, and then pried the top open, rummaging around until he felt the familiar silky cloth that hid the occupant from view. Whipping it out, he kicked the trunk closed with his foot; Ginny's eyes went wide.

"Is that−is that an Invisibility Cloak?" she stammered.

"Yeah, it is," Harry answered, glancing at Ron. "You didn't tell her?"

"Well−it's kind of a secret, isn't it?" Ron said.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Harry admitted.

Motioning for Ron and Ginny to come over, Harry addressed Ginny. "It was my Dad's. I got it as a present last Christmas, don't know who sent it."

When they were all huddled together, Harry threw the cloak over them.

"I think we have a problem," Harry said. "We're never going to be able to get to the boats in time."

"So?" said Ron. "We're second years; we don't go on the boats."

"I know, but Ginny does."

Ron thought about that for a second.

"We can say she got lost. Yeah, she got lost, and then she found us. What d'you think, Harry?"

"Can you not talk about me like I'm not here?" Ginny asked; Ron ignored her.

"Well…it could work," Harry said. "Ginny, is that fine with you?"

Ginny nodded, she didn't really have many options.

After what felt like hours of walking, but in reality was no more then a quarter hour, they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Throwing off the Cloak and stowing it in his pocket, Harry peaked inside. All the students were in the hall, it didn't look like the sorting had begun. He looked at the staff table, hoping that for some reason Snape would be gone, but the greasy-haired, long-nosed teacher was still there, scowling. Upon closer inspection, there was someone missing from the table. But why−

"Potter, Weasley."

Harry suppressed a wince at the sound of a severe voice that he recognized from his last year at Hogwarts. Turning around, he saw none other than Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, and notoriously strict.

"Um−good to see you, Professor," Harry said in what he hoped was a winning voice. McGonagall did not look pleased.

"Come with me, Potter," she said. "And you two as well."

Ron swallowed and moved to stand next to Harry. Ginny just stood there, looking petrified. She hadn't even started her first year at Hogwarts, and it already looked like she was in a lot of trouble.

Professor McGonagall started walking at a brisk pace, and the two boys followed her. When Ginny continued to not move, McGonagall gave an exasperated sigh.

"Come on, girl."

Slowly, Ginny made to follow them. They made their way through several corridors, up a few flights of stairs, and into a office that Harry recognized as McGonagall's.

She sat down behind her desk, and conjured up three chairs in front of it.

"Well, sit down," McGonagall said impatiently when the three gave no indications of sitting down. Harry sat down in his chair; Ron and Ginny followed suit. Harry noticed that food had been placed on a table in the corner of the office.

"Do you have _any _idea of what you have done?" McGonagall asked. When none of them said anything, she answered for them. "Two Muggles saw your car take off, and another saw it flying in mid air! The Ministry wiped their minds, but you could have exposed the Muggles to the Wizarding world. You broke the Statue of Secrecy."

She looked at all three of them in turn, staring in each of their eyes.

"Now, which one of you thought to fly a car to Hogwarts?"

Slowly, Ron raised his hand.

"It was me, Professor."

McGonagall closed her eyes, looking as though she had a headache.

"And _why_ did you feel a need to take a flying car to Hogwarts? Is the train not glamorous enough for you?"

"No," Harry said hastily, "It was because the barrier closed! We couldn't get into platform nine and three-quarters, and we waited, but Mrs. And Mr. Weasley−Ron and Ginny's parents−didn't come out, so we thought it must be closed on both sides. So we took the car, we needed to get to Hogwarts, so we followed the train, and then we landed, and it drove off into the forest−"

"And did it _never _occur to you?" McGonagall said, interrupting his babbling, "That you could send an owl to Hogwarts? I believe you have one, Mr. Potter?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, feeling fairly stupid; the thought had never crossed either on of their minds.

"So it didn't occur to you," McGonagall said. She then turned her attention to Ginny. "You are Miss Ginevra Weasley, correct?"

Ginny gave a frightened nod.

"You will need to be Sorted."

"So−you're not going to expel me?" Ginny said meekly. McGonagall gave one of her rare smiles.

"Expel you before you have started school? Not today, Miss Weasley."

"And us?" Harry asked.

McGonagall hesitated for a moment. "I will deal with your punishment after Miss Weasley is Sorted."

"Is it possible to Sort her?" Harry asked. "I mean, hasn't everyone been sorted?"

"Potter, do you think that in the history of Hogwarts there has never been a student that has come in late?" McGonagall said. "No, she will be able to be sorted."

McGonagall waved her wand, but nothing happened. Harry wondered if she had preformed some spell wrong, but just then the Sorting Hat came shooting in through the doorway, and deposited itself on Ginny's lap. Ginny looked down at it, unsure what to do.

"Put it on," McGonagall explained.

Ginny put the hat on, and it spoke to her. Except it wasn't like it was talking to her, more like she could just hear it inside her head.

_Oh, very interesting. You would make a good Slytherin, a very excellent Slytherin, you would be best to be put in that house…but since you have your mind already made up there is only one house for you: _GRYFFINDOR!

The last word was shouted out, and the other occupants of the room could hear it. Despite the fact that Harry and Ron's fates' were either undecided or unmentioned, they were glad Ginny was in Gryffindor.

McGonagall gave a few claps of her hand, and then took the Sorting Hat back from Ginny. Focusing her attention on Harry and Ron, she spoke.

"I will not be expelling you two today. However, to impress the seriousness of your actions, twenty points will by taken from Gryffindor, from _both _of you, and two week's detentions each. Do you understand?"

Harry and Ron nodded vigorously: Despite the disappointment they felt for loosing house points so early, they knew they were lucky to get off with such a relatively light punishment.

"Professor?" Harry ventured. "Ginny wasn't in Gryffindor when she flew the car, so Gryffindor doesn't have to lose twenty more points, does it?"

McGonagall gave a small smile.

"No, I don't think points will be taken for that. Did you say that Miss Weasley flew the car from King's Cross station to Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded, looking terrified; she obviously expected some sort of dire punishment.

"Fifty points to Gryffindor for exceptional flying and navigating, Miss Weasley."

All three students looked at each other. Harry and Ron were happy that despite everything that had happened Gryffindor had actually earned house points; Ginny had no idea what house points were. She raised a tentative hand.

"Professor McGonagall? What are house points?"

McGonagall stood up.

"Miss Weasley, come with me. I will explain what you missed. You two," she indicated Harry and Ron, "Eat your food, then go to your dormitories."

Twenty minutes later, a smiling Harry walked back to the Gryffindor common room with Ron in tow. They had made it to Hogwarts, they had actually earned house points, Ginny was in Gryffindor...everything seemed to be perfect.

There are certain events that can make people friends. For Harry, Ron, and Hermione, it was knocking out a troll in a bathroom. For Harry and Ginny, it was surviving a car ride to Hogwarts.

_A/N: Chapter was a bit shorter than usual, but that felt like the best place to end it. Please let me know if you liked it, or if you spotted something wrong._


	4. Voices

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: I am so very sorry for taking this long to update. School is making it hard to get time to write; the only good part about that is that the amount of time I have to daydream is giving me enough inspiration that I shouldn't get writer's block too bad. Again, sorry for the wait.  
If you read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets closely, you may end up noticing that a few general events in the book might happen in a different order here, which is on purpose. Just to let you know. And I'm rambling again, so without further ado, here's the next chapter._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

**Chapter Four: Voices**

The first couple of days of Harry's schedule went as expected. His first day was made up of Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. Nothing new was learned in these classes. Instead, they reviewed the previous year's instruction (with the exception of History of Magic, but Harry had no idea what they learned on his first day, due to his falling asleep five minutes into the lesson).

His second day contained Potions, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Herbology was fairly interesting; they learned about the properties of Mandrakes. He had been astonished to find out from Ginny that the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. He was looking forward to this class, having just come from a particularly nasty Potions lesson in which Draco Malfoy had sabotaged his potion. The seemingly harmless Calming Draught had exploded when a sliver of dragon liver had been levitated into it, showering Harry in a thick, sticky solution that immediately started to burn through his robes. Harry was positive Snape had seen Draco slip the liver into his potion, but he awarded no punishment to Malfoy. Instead, Snape docked Gryffindor ten points for carelessness and gave Harry no marks for the whole day.

To call his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class a fiasco would be putting it lightly. He had walked into the classroom and had sat down next to Ron, then he waited for Lockhart to appear. He passed the time looking at the various pictures and portraits of Lockhart that adorned the wall; there had to be over a hundred of them, all winking and flashing their teeth. A voice suddenly boomed out from the front of the classroom.

"Is there a Harry Potter here?"

Harry involuntarily started, surprised by the voice. The owner of said voice was Lockhart, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Strutting across the room, Lockhart scanned the tables for a boy with a scar. Harry may have been able to hide in the bookstore, but he had no such luck here. Lockhart stopped right in front of Harry's seat and gave him an impossibly large smile.

"Harry!" Lockhart yelled. "Great for you to be in my class, and I bet you're just thrilled. Now, we'll all take a small test, and then Harry will assist me in our first, dangerous lesson."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of that, and was even less sure what to make of the tests that were magically passed out. He flipped through his, looking at some of the questions.

-

_23. On what day was Gilderoy Lockhart given his Order of Merlin, Second Class?_

_24. What was Gilderoy Lockhart's secret dream as a child?_

_25. What year did Gilderoy Lockhart graduate Hogwarts?_

-

Harry couldn't believe it (well, with this teacher he might be able to); every single question had to do with Lockhart, and not a thing about the Dark Arts and defense. Embarrassingly, Hermione got every single question right; she even blushed when Lockhart congratulated her. Harry had thought that the worst was over when Lockhart reappeared right in front of his desk. Harry couldn't help it, he jumped; the man had a startling ability to appear almost out of thin air. Lockhart grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him to the front of the classroom. Harry felt very foolish standing there, next to a big cage full of what turned out to be...Cornish Pixies.

**_

* * *

_**

Robes slightly torn after the lesson, from their close-encounter with the pixies, Harry stumbled out of class. Ron looked no better; only Hermione had come through the encounter unscathed. Ron and Hermione were having a bit of a row about Lockhart.

"Hermione, he had no idea what he was doing!"

"Pixies are−it's is first day!" Hermione argued.

"So?" Ron countered. "He ran for the door and left them for us to put back in their stupid cage. _Quirrell_ did a better job then him! He'd have be a better teacher if−"

"−He hadn't had Voldemort on the back of his head, yeah," Harry finished. "Hey Ginny."

Ginny had just rounded a corner and bumped right into them. She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "Hello". Even though Harry considered them friends, she still seemed a bit nervous around him. She looked at them curiously, taking in Harry and Ron's tattered state.

"Lockhart," Harry explained. "He set Pixies loose on the class then ran off to his office. Hey, you just had Potions, didn't you? How bad was Snape?"

"It was okay," Ginny answered.

Ron looked like someone had just hit him on the head with a beater's bat.

"What?" said Ron incredulously. "Snape?"

Ginny nodded. "He said my potion was passable, and gave me fair marks. He was almost nice."

Ron was flabbergasted. "_Snape_? Nice? We are talking about the same teacher, aren't we? The long-nosed-"

Ginny's eyes had widened and fixed on a point over Ron's shoulder; she started shaking her head for Ron to shut up; Ron ignored her and kept talking.

"-Greasy haired git? Right?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," said a low and dreadfully familiar voice from behind Ron. Harry, Ron and Hermione whirled about to see the source of the voice: Snape was standing behind them, and there was no doubt that he had overheard enough of the conversation to get the gist of it. "I do believe that she is talking about that teacher. Twenty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention for insulting a teacher. You too, Potter."

And with that, Snape spun around and stalked off, his black robes billowing behind him. Harry groaned.

"You had to say that, didn't you Ron? Now we've got detention for _three _weeks."

"But why did he give Harry detention?" Ginny asked, confused. "He didn't say anything."

"He hates me," Harry said simply. "He has since the first day I set foot in his class; be glad that he doesn't seem to mind you."

"I think he's just lonely," Ginny said, after making sure that Snape was well out of hearing range. "He spends all his time in the dungeons, all by himself."

Ron snorted. "I don't feel too sorry for him, to be honest. Hey..." A smirk appeared on Ron's face. "You don't have a crush on him _too_, do you?"

Hermione said, "Of course not," at the same time that Harry said, "What do you mean 'too'?"

Harry had picked up Ron's emphasis on that word. Ron looked surprised.

"You didn't know? Ginny−"

Ginny's face had turned beet red, and was waving her hands for Ron to stop, while Hermione was doing her best to stamp on Ron's feet; Ron plowed on.

"−Fancies you, Harry."

Ginny's eyes suddenly looked watery, and she spun on the spot and dashed off, some of her books falling out of her bag in her mad dash to get out of the area. Meanwhile, Hermione was glaring daggers at Ron, who looked genuinely confused.

"What'd I do?" he said, looking a bit intimidated by Hermione's glare.

"Ronald Weasley, you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, " Hermione said, still glaring at a bewildered Ron.

"But−"

"Hermione, can I talk to you for a second?" Harry interrupted. "Alone?"

With a final glare at Ron, Hermione followed Harry to a more secluded corridor. Harry took a quick glance left and right to make sure no one was listening in.

"Is it true?"

Hermione sighed. "Wasn't it obvious? She tends to blush if you pay too much attention to her, for a while she couldn't really speak when you were around−you didn't notice, did you?"

Harry shook his head. "And now she's upset because I've found out?"

"She's embarrassed," Hermione corrected. "Wouldn't you be embarrassed if Ron blurted out that _you_ had a crush on someone in front of that person?"

"I don't have a crush on Ginny!" Harry said indignantly. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say anything about Ginny."

"I mean−I don't fancy anyone, alright?" Harry said, aware that his cheeks were turning pink.

"Whatever you say, Harry," Hermione said indifferently. "By the way, you might want to try and find Ginny. Class is over, and you have at least an hour before dinner."

"Isn't that more of a...girl thing?" Harry ventured hopefully; he had no idea how he was supposed to find, let alone comfort, a tearful Ginny.

"I think you're person that needs to talk to her. Besides," Hermione said, "_I_ have to go find Ronald. See you."

And with that she walked off, leaving Harry standing there, wondering what he was supposed to do.

* * *

Harry searched everywhere: The Gryffindor common room, the library, a few empty classrooms, the corridors, everywhere he could think of. There was only one place he had not checked, and he has an unfortunate feeling that Ginny was in it. He headed down a flight of stairs and took a right, and arrived at a place he had been in only once before: The girls' bathroom. It had been one thing to break in to it when it was abandoned to save Hermione from a troll; it was another thing to walk into it when it could be occupied.

Making _very_ sure no one was anywhere near him, he pressed one ear to the door. It was hard to tell, but he though he could hear someone sniffling. After a few moments, when he was fairly sure that there was only one occupant, he cautiously eased the door open a crack.

"Ginny?" he said.

The sniffling stopped.

"Can you come out here?" Harry asked. "I really don't want to get more detention for being in the girls' bathroom."

After a few seconds the door opened and Ginny stepped out, looking a little red around the eyes. Harry sat down, with his back against the wall, and motioned for Ginny to sit next to him. She did, and they stat there for a minute, while Harry searched for the right words.

"Ron can be a prat, can't he?" Harry said finally. Ginny nodded. Still grasping for words, he said, "Did you know that me and Ron knocked out a Troll in that bathroom?"

"Hermione told me," Ginny said. "She said you saved her life."

"It was our fault, actually," Harry admitted. "Ron said that no one could stand her, and she got upset and went into the bathroom..."

Harry trailed off, realizing that the conversation had come around to his original purpose for talking.

"Listen, Ginny," Harry said, looking right at her. "We can just pretend that today didn't happen. You're my friend, and I don't want something like Ron being stupid making you feel like we can't be friends, okay?"

After a few seconds, Ginny nodded. "Okay."

Harry stood up and offered a hand to her; she grasped it and stood up. They both stood there facing each other for a second, and then Harry suddenly pulled her into a hug. He didn't quite know what possessed him to do that; perhaps it was influenced by the many hugs he had received from Hermione. Ginny stiffened at first, but then relaxed, and Harry felt himself enjoying it−

"Potter," drawled a cold and amused voice from the end of the corridor. Harry took a step back in surprise, and looked for the source of the voice; it was Draco Malfoy. Draco was smirking heavily, and with a sinking feeling Harry wondered how long he had been listening in. "So you _do_ have yourself a girlfriend, Potter." His eyes narrowed. "Filthy little blood-traitor."

Incensed, Harry grabbed for his wand, but Ginny was quicker; she whipped out her own wand and muttered something that Harry could not hear. A jet of light shot from her wand and hit Draco in the face. At first, it appeared that nothing had happened, but then something started happening to Draco's nose. What looked like bats started to come out of his nostrils and flap around his face; it was only upon slightly closer inspection that Harry realized that they were, in fact, his mutated bogies. They suddenly started to attack him, clawing at his face; he fled with a high-pitched scream.

Harry looked at the spot where Draco has stood only a moment before, and then at Ginny, and then at the spot, and then back at Ginny. She lowered her wand, and turned her head towards him. Harry tried not to laugh, he really did, but finally he couldn't hold it any longer; shaking with laughter, he gestured incomprehensibly at the place where Malfoy had run away. A smile grew on Ginny's face, and then she started to laugh too. Harry did not think he had ever heard her laugh before; to him her laugh sounded perfect. There was no giggling in it, no shrieking, no excessively girl-like sounds. After many minutes, their laughter finally subsided. Harry's good mood was short-lived, however; a quick glance at a nearby clock told him that dinner had already started. He groaned.

"Well, you can go to dinner then. I've got detention with Lockhart; I was supposed to eat a bit early. And if you're still feeling a little, y'know, maybe you could write in that diary of yours? I've seen you spending time with it."

"I'll see if I can save you some food," Ginny said." If Ron leaves any, that is."

Harry grinned. "That would be great. And hey, the detention can't be any worse than the ones I have with Snape, right?"

* * *

Harry never knew that it was possible to get enough fan mail in one day to cover three whole tables. His detention was answering Lockhart's fan mail, and after two hours of it, he would have gladly taken Snape; he wasn't even allowed to use magic to assist in the arduous task.

After four hours of it, Harry's hand felt like it was about to fall off. He kept nudging Lockhart and glancing at the clock, but the professor took no notice. Finally, he cleared his throat loudly. Lockhart looked up, startled, and glanced at the clock.

"Look at that!" Lockhart exclaimed. "Time sure does fly when you're having fun, right Harry?"

Harry, who had not experienced anything remotely like fun and had not ingested an ounce of food since lunch, only said, "Can I go now?"

"Yes, I suppose. Same time tomorrow, Harry."

Lockhart flashed Harry another one of those frighteningly large smiles, and ushered Harry out of his office. Grumbling, Harry had walked three-quarters of the way back to Gryffindor tower when he almost ran right into Ginny, who looked out of breath.

"Oh, there you are," she panted. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Lockhart kept me extra. Fan mail." Harry made a face. He was not surprised when Ginny did not join him in bashing Lockhart; like Hermione, she seemed a little taken in with him.

"I saved you some food, it's back in the common room," Ginny said. "It's funny, I can't really remember what happened after I got back with your food. Must have fallen asleep."

"Thanks−" Harry started, but stopped. He could hear a strange noise, almost hissing, but he could not discern what it was saying. It seemed to be coming from his right; he walked over to the right hand wall, his head cocked to one side. Ginny stared at him.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

Ignoring her, he pressed the side of his head to the wall, so his ear was lying against it. It was coming from inside the wall, he could tell that now; it was also now possible to make out the odd-sounding voice.

_Kill you…rip the flesh from your bones…coming…kill…_

Harry jerked back from the wall, alarmed.

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked Ginny; he was thoroughly freaked out.

"Hear what?" Ginny asked, her eyes showing her confusion.

"That voice," Harry said. "'Kill, rip the flesh from your bones, coming'?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't hear any voices."

"They're in the wall," Harry insisted. Here, come this way!"

Harry grabbed the arm of a skeptical Ginny, and dragged her through the corridors, following the voice. In the process he ran right into Ron and Hermione. He was so surprised to see them that he almost forgot about what he was doing.

"Wha−what are you two doing here?" he asked.

"We were looking for you, mate," Ron said. "You were supposed to have been back from detention an hour ago−what are _you _doing?"

"Oh, yeah. Follow me!" Harry shouted, and took off at a run, following the fading voices. With a shrug in Ron and Hermione's direction, Ginny started sprinting after Harry; the other two joined her, apparently deciding that it was best not to miss out on whatever was happening.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked Ginny, shouting to be heard by the girl who was in front of her.

"Harry heard voices in the walls, something about killing something, and now he's following them," Ginny shouted back.

Hermione almost stopped running out of surprise. "He heard _what_?"

But Ginny had no chance to respond; Harry had suddenly halted, and having been paying attention to Hermione, Ginny did not notice him until it was too late: she ran into him with a muffled _thump_, and they both fell to the ground. Hermione narrowly avoided tripping over them, but Ron's feet caught Harry's leg and he fell over Harry, landing on top of Ginny. With a collective groan, they all started to get up.

"And what the bloody hell was that about?" Ron demanded.

"Language, Ro-" Hermione started to admonish, but Harry interrupted her.

"Look."

Lying on the floor, slumped next to a suit of armor and holding a polished shield in his hand, was Muggle-born Justin Finch-Fletchley. As Harry took a closer look, he realized that 'slumped' wasn't the proper word to describe Justin's condition. He was, in fact, frozen in an awkward position that looked halfway between crouching and sitting; a giant shield from the suit of armor he was resting on was clutched in his hand, raised above his head. Harry's first thought was that Justin had been hit by a Body-Bind Curse; he looked like Neville had when Hermione had restrained him from keeping them from going after the Philosopher's Stone. But Justin just looked..._different_ than that. But the most disturbing part was a pair of giant dents in the shield, which looked as though it had been stabbed at. Harry may not have known exactly what was going on, but he did know that it was beyond the realm of a prank.

A horrible though occurred to Harry. He rushed over to Justin and felt his arm for a pulse. Harry thought he felt one, although he was not sure. Justin looked dead, and if it weren't for the fact that he was stiff as a board, impossible to move, Harry would have though him deceased.

"Someone get McGonagall or Dumbledore," Harry said, only half aware of what was going on. The voice in the walls, the frozen Hufflepuff, the two dents in the shield...what was going on? The last thing he wanted was a repeat of last year; he had been hoping for a nice and peaceful year at Hogwarts.

He wasn't sure how much time had elapsed from when Hermione had rushed off and when Dumbledore joined them, but thankfully no crowd had gathered. Dumbledore knelt down next to Justin, and Harry backed off. After a moment had passed, Harry voiced the question they had all been wondering.

"Professor−is he dead?"

"No," Dumbledore said, "But he has been Petrified."

"Petrified?" Harry asked, unsure of what Dumbledore meant; the only thing he knew of which sounded remotely like that was the Body-Bind Curse.

"Dark Magic of the most advanced kind," Dumbledore explained. "He is paralyzed. Most interesting..."

Dumbledore trailed off, having seen the twin marks upon the shield. He then glanced up at the wall behind Justin, and his features hardened.

"Did you see who did this?" he asked.

"What?" Harry said. He did not know what Dumbledore was taking about−until he too saw the wall behind Justin. Harry had no idea how he had missed it before; perhaps he was too concentrated on his fellow student. But there was writing on the wall:

THIS WILL NOT BE THE LAST. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

It was written in what looked to be blood.

"No," Harry said. "I didn't."

Dumbledore surveyed Harry, his bright blue eyes piercing into Harry's own eyes. "I believe you," he said finally. "But I will need all four of you two come to my office."

Harry exchanged a glance with his three friends, then stood up. They followed Dumbledore to the gargoyle that resided on the seventh floor; Harry knew from experience that it guarded the stairwell which lead to the Headmaster's office.

"Pepper Imps," Dumbledore said, and the gargoyle sprang to life, curling up and backwards to reveal a spiral staircase.

"That's the password," Harry whispered in response to a confused look Ginny was giving him.

Dumbledore led the way up the twisting stairs; Harry was not pleased to notice that Snape seemed to have followed them, and was at the end of the procession. The door that lay at the top of the stairs opened for Dumbledore: he strode inside and sat down in the chair behind his desk. With a wave of his wand, four chairs appeared in front of the desk; it appeared that Snape was supposed to stand. Harry slowly lowered himself into the seat, nervous; he heard a trio of _thunks _which indicated that his friends had sat down too. Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles up his crooked nose and looked sternly at the students before him. When he finally spoke, it was in a low and solemn voice.

"Now, tell me what happened."

-

_A/N: Hope you liked it. With any luck, the next chapter won't take as long to post. As always, it's great to get reviews. Thanks!_


	5. A Mudblood and Slugs

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: So very sorry_ _for the long wait. Part of the wait stemmed from trouble making parts of this chapter come out right, and it still doesn't feel quite right. But, well, here it is. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

**Chapter Five: A Mudblood and Slugs **

Being questioned by the Headmaster was never a pleasant experience; the presence of Snape made it a hundred times worse. The only consolation Harry had as he began his story was that he had his friends with him, who he knew would back him up.

"Well," Harry started, "I was walking in the hall —"

"What were you doing in the halls at such a late time?" Snape interjected quickly.

"I had detention," Harry answered. Snape's black eyes bored into Harry's own green eyes, and for a moment Harry felt extremely uncomfortable; to his relief, Dumbledore seemed to take over the questioning.

"Your detention would have been over hours ago, would it not have been?"

"No. Er — sorry, no professor. You see, Professor Lockhart kept me over; he lost track of time answering his fan mail."

"That does not explain what these three students were doing out of their common room!" Snape spit out vehemently; apparently he was back in the conversation — if you could call it that. It was starting to seem more like an interrogation to Harry.

"We were looking for Harry," Ginny said defiantly. "He was supposed to have been back at least an hour before he did get out, we were getting worried."

Snape said nothing, and paced to the far side of the room, looking in deep thought. Harry was surprised; he couldn't recall the last time Snape had accepted (or seemingly accepted) an explanation he or his friends had given him without as much as a question.

"I believe that you four are innocent," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "To cause Petrifaction of that sort would require magic of the most advanced kind, Dark magic, far beyond the talents of a first or second-year, or even most other students. Fortunately, the Mandrakes Professor Sprout is growing will be able to cure him in due time. But this is a serious matter; Justin Finch-Fletchley was not only Petrified but attacked by some objects with great force. I assume you saw the marks on the shield?"

Harry nodded.

"If I am not mistaken," Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Finch-Fletchley is lucky to be alive right now. Therefore, I must ask you: did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary?"

Harry hesitated before answering. He did not want to lie to Dumbledore; he had enormous respect for the Headmaster. However, if someone had come up to Harry and recited a tale about voices in the walls, he would have thought they were mental.

"No, professor," Harry said, feeling a twinge of guilt as he said so. Without warning, Snape suddenly stepped in front of Harry, his black robes billowing around his legs. Snape's black eyes drilled into Harry's eyes again, and Harry felt as though he should look away, but he was transfixed by Snape's gaze; the memory of the voices floated into his mind, along with the earlier events of the day.

"Severus," Dumbledore said warningly, and Snape broke their gaze. Harry noticed the Potions Master was holding a wand in his right hand.

"And how did you happen upon Finch-Fletchley?" Snape asked. "It is not on the route back to the Gryffindor common room. Perhaps you were…hearing voices?"

It was only with supreme effort that Harry managed not to react to that statement. Unfortunately, Hermione's gasp of surprise was as good as an admission.

"Severus," Dumbledore said again, and there was a tinge of frustration in the old wizard's voice. With a last glare at Harry, Snape stalked away, hopefully finished interrogating Harry for good.

When Dumbledore returned his attention to Harry there was a trace of disappointment in his blue eyes. Harry would have much preferred that Dumbledore would shout at him or rage at him for lying; this felt much worse.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Afraid I would think you crazy for hearing voices?" Dumbledore asked. Ron, Hermione and Ginny suddenly found the walls very interesting; this was starting to venture into a more personal conversation.

When Harry gave a little nod, Dumbledore said, "Harry, I do not think you are crazy. But I do need to know what you heard. Can you repeat what the voices said?"

"Um, I think it was something like —"

Harry had no trouble recalling what had happened; whatever Snape had done made those memories seemingly float to his mind. The hissing voice, the blood letters on the wall, curving in sinister, glistening red snake-like shapes…

"Like '_Kill you, rip the flesh from your bones, coming, kill_', something like that," Harry finished.

The room was silent save for an oddly-colored bird in a cage in the corner, who was absentmindedly gnawing on a piece of wood.

"What?" Harry inquired, perplexed; he had expected cries of shock or outrage, or perhaps a slight stunned silence, but not everyone looking at him. Ginny and Hermione's eyes were wide, and Ron's jaw looked in danger of falling off.

"Harry," Ginny ventured, "You weren't saying anything; you were just making a hissing noise."

"But that's — what?" Harry stammered; Hermione gasped.

"Harry, you're a Parselmouth!"

"A — a what?" Harry spluttered, more confused them before.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, his expression somewhere between thoughtful and grave. Then he gave a slight nod of his head towards Snape, who pointed his wand at Harry and yelled, "_Serpensortia_!"

To Harry's great surprise, a snake shot out of the end of Snape's wand, landing at Harry's feet. It glared maliciously at him, then scanned the room, its forked tongue flickering. Harry looked from Snape to Dumbledore: Snape was attacking him, surely Dumbledore would do something. But the Headmaster did nothing.

The scene was getting more surreal by the second, and Harry now starting to think that everything must be a dream. But the hissing of the snake confirmed that this was indeed real. Unable to take his eyes off the serpent, Harry shouted, "_Stop it!_", now thoroughly fed up with the situation. To his great surprise, and the apparent surprise of his friends, the snake stopped in mid-slither. Snape waved his wand, and the snake disappeared with a _bang_. Harry looked at all the other occupants of the room, searching for an answer. Finally Ron seemed to have found his voice.

"You — you can talk to snakes," Ron stammered.

"Well — yeah," said Harry. "Can't you?"

Ron shook his head weakly.

"It is not a common ability," Dumbledore said, speaking at last. "Most interesting. Well, it is late; you best all go back to your dormitories. Good night."

Harry was taken aback by this abrupt dismissal; it had just been revealed that he had some kind of rare ability, yet Dumbledore was telling him to go to bed after exchanging only a few words on being a 'Parselmouth', as Hermione had called it. He sat up, and then thought of one more thing.

"Wait, Professor — the blood on the wall? Who's was it?"

"Dragon blood," said Snape, speaking from the corner of the room. "Stolen from my office this morning."

Relived to hear that it was not the blood of a human, but confused, Harry walked back to the twisting staircase; he heard Ron, Hermione and Ginny's footsteps behind them. Once they had descended the stairs and the ugly gargoyle had twisted shut behind them, Harry halted and turned around.

"Would someone mind telling me what's going on?" Harry demanded.

Hermione's eyes were wide. "You're a Parselmouth. It means you can speak Parseltongue, the snake language."

"And you can't do that?" Harry asked, astonished; his friends shook their heads.

"It's not a good thing," Ron warned. "Only dark wizards are Parselmouths —"

"_What_?!" Ginny exploded, looking furious. "'Only dark wizards are Parselmouths'? You surely can't be suggesting that Harry's a dark wizard. What's the worst he could have possibly done with Parseltongue?"

Harry had never seen Ginny so fired up; her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in slight disarray; he did not blame Ron for taking a step backwards.

"Well — I only meant — they're _usually_ dark — You-Know-Who was one!"

Ron seemed completely unaware that he was only making Harry feel worse; finding out that he shared a rare quality with the murderer of his parents made Harry feel slightly sick to his stomach. By the time he got back to his bed and flopped down in it, his only consolation was that the worst he had ever done with Parseltongue was setting a boa constrictor on his cousin.

**_

* * *

_**

The news that Justin had been Petrified spread through the school like wildfire, and it had soon been wildly exaggerated; if you believed Seamus's version of the event Justin had been attacked by thirty dark wizards, who had fled only when Dumbledore had arrived to see what the disturbance was. Harry was just glad that no one had picked up on the fact that he had been one of the first people to see Justin after the mysterious attack.

"Cheer up," Ron had said, "Your first Quidditch practice is coming up!"

They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room; Harry had a little less than an hour before he had to be at practice.

"I guess," Harry said. Then a thought occurred to him. "Hey — hasn't Ginny had her first flying lesson?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well?" Harry questioned. "How was it?"

"It was nice," Ginny said. "Madam Hooch said I did really good. The Shooting Stars were nice; nothing like a Nimbus would be, though."

Ginny eyed Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand enviously.

"You could have a go on it after practice," Harry offered.

"No," Ron said immediately.

"Ron, everyone else got a go on it back at the Burrow," Harry said.

"She's —"

"You're not the boss of me, Ron," Ginny said angrily. "Don't start with the 'she's too young', Harry was riding the Nimbus when he was my age, and I've ridden brooms before!"

"Yeah — for one day," Ron countered. Ginny looked like she was going to say different, but then closed her mouth; Harry made a mental note to question her about it.

"Ron," Hermione said, "Let her ride it."

Outvoted, Ron threw up his hands; he spent the rest of the time before practice not speaking, for which Harry was glad. Ginny had told him more about her Bat-Bogey Hex, and Ron did not need to be hexed on top of everything else.

**_

* * *

_**

Harry had to endure Oliver Wood's speech before going out to the pitch, for Oliver was a fanatic about winning the House Cup, and he had been denied that opportunity when Harry had missed the final match last year; as a consequence, Oliver had booked the pitch for the day. Harry strode out into the field, noticing Hermione, Ron, and Ginny in the stands. To his surprise, they weren't alone on the field; a group of green-robed players were marching over to them, carrying identical brooms. Slytherins, led by the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint. To his great surprise, Draco Malfoy was in the middle of the procession, his nose slightly bandaged. While Harry wanted to laugh over the effects of Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex, Oliver was positively livid.

"I booked this pitch!" he shouted at Flint. "I _booked_ it!"

Flint paused to wipe some of Oliver's spittle off of his face, than spoke in a rough, uncouth voice.

"The pitch's big enough for all of us, Wood."

Oliver's face contorted. "Get out; you have no permission to be here."

Flint smiled an ugly smile. "But we _have_ permission — wha's this, a field invasion?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder: Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were making their way down off the stands, curious to what the commotion was.

"Look what we have here," Draco taunted. "Granger, Weasel, and the Weaselette."

But Harry noticed that despite Draco's new and unflattering nickname for Ginny, Malfoy still seemed to shrink back and unconsciously touch his nose when Ginny approached, clearly remembering the last occasion he had insulted Ginny. Harry also noticed that Ginny's hand migrated down to her pocket where her wand was kept, but she did nothing for the moment.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Ron asked, indicating Draco.

Draco took a step forward and planted the end of his broomstick into the soft ground.

"Not that it's any of your business, Weasley," said Draco, "But I'm the new seeker."

Harry had to suppress a burst of laughter at the obvious pride that Draco spoke with. He remembered overhearing the conversation that Draco had with his father in Borgin and Burkes, and Lucius promising to buy him a new broomstick.

"What, did your father pull strings to get you onto the team?" Ginny mocked, evidently not only remembering the conversation too, but sore about Draco's nickname.

"Funny you should mention my father," Draco said with a smile, and displayed his broomstick; the rest of the team did the same. Ron gasped.

"That's a Nimbus Two Thousand and One!"

Draco's lip curled up in a sneer. "Right you are, Weasley. And father bought them for the whole team."

He was still gloating when Hermione said sharply, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in. _They_ got in on pure talent."

The smug expression flickered off Draco's face for a second, and was replaced by one of anger.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry did not know exactly what 'Mudblood' meant, but it could mean nothing good. The reactions of the Gryffindor team ranged from expressions of outrage to Fred and George taking a threatening step forward, their Beater's bats still in their hands. Both Ron and Ginny went for a more direct approach; wands suddenly out, they each shot a spell at Draco. Ginny's missed and hit one of the Slytherin Chasers, who started having trouble with his nose; Ron's spell missed Draco by a handful of inches. Draco suddenly had his wand out, and he countered with a spell at Ginny: it hit her in the gut. Harry, who was in the process of pulling out his own wand to join in, stopped; he was shocked.

Everything seemed fine for a second, then Ginny doubled over and vomited slugs. Fred and George gave a roar of outrage, and charged Draco. Draco, who was used to having Crabbe and Goyle with him to protect him, panicked. Grabbing his broom, he took off at a run, hopping on the new Nimbus as he ran. As he took off into the sky the twins looked like they were about to climb on their own brooms and give chase, but their Cleansweep Fives had no chance of catching Draco's broom.

Harry, who had saw red for a moment, desperately wanted to climb on his own broom and go after Draco, as he had a slight chance of catching him with it, but as Ginny belched an impossible amount of slugs again he figured that her need was greater than his wish to hex Draco. Harry grabbed Ginny's wand, which had fallen to the ground, and put it in his pocket; he put an arm around her shoulder left shoulder and helped her up.

"Help me, Ron," he shouted, and Ron put another arm around her right side, and they got her into a walking position.

"C'mon," he said to Hermione, who looked very upset. "Let's go to Hagrid's; he's closest. It's fine George, we've got her."

With a last glare at the Slytherin team, which looked like they would be shaking with laughter if it weren't for the two mad Gryffindor beaters who had a death grip on their bats.

**_

* * *

_**

The walk to Hagrid's hut seemed to take an eternity, Ginny spitting up mouthfuls of slugs every few steps. Harry felt intensely bad for her; she looked absolutely miserable. Finally they reached the familiar home, and Harry pounded on the wooden door with his free hand. The door jerked open, and Hagrid's giant head poked out.

"Who's it?" Hagrid asked, looking over their heads. Finally he looked down and saw the odd group. "Oh, bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me — wha's wrong with Ginny?"

"Malfoy hexed her," Harry explained quickly; Ginny was turning green and he did not want slugs all over Hagrid's doorstep. "She's vomiting slugs — d'you have a bucket?"

Hagrid took one look at Ginny's face and hurriedly grabbed a larger copper basin from a shelf and plunked it down in front of a chair, which Ron and Harry lowered Ginny onto. After a wave a slugs filled the bucket, Ginny wiped her mouth and smiled feebly at Hagrid.

"Thanks," she said.

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," Hermione said anxiously. "That's a tricky curse; I'm surprised Malfoy was able to pull it off."

"So," Hagrid said, after passing out tea and treacle fudge, looking thoughtful, "Why'd Malfoy curse yer?"

"Because I tried to hex him," Ginny said, managing to look both proud and sick at the same time.

"Why'd yeh do that?" Hagrid questioned. "Now, I know he's not the nicest of gents, but that don' mean yeh should —"

"I don't just go around hexing people," Ginny said indignantly. "I mean, I hexed him once when he insulted me and Harry and called me a blood traitor, but not all the time! It was because he was being awful, he called —"

Ginny's sentence was stopped by a new batch of slugs, so Harry took over. "— Hermione a 'Mudblood', Hagrid."

Hagrid gasped. "He didn'," he said angrily. Hermione's eyes became watery, and she suddenly stood up and walked away from them, back turned.

"Would someone mind telling me what 'blood traitor' or 'Mudblood' means?" Harry asked. "It can't be anything good —"

"It's a foul word," Hermione said, her back still turned. "It means 'dirty blood', and it's about the worst thing you can call someone like me; a Muggle-born. Something you'd expect from a pureblood supremacist like _Malfoy_. And blood traitor's another nasty term for purebloods that consort with Muggles and Muggle-born and the like."

Hermione had spat Draco's name out as if it was as foul a curse as the word he had called her. Harry now felt doubly angry; Draco had hexed one of his best friends and gravely insulted the other. Harry sat up.

"Where're you going?" Ron asked as Harry made to walk for the door.

"I'm going to get Malfoy," Harry said grimly.

"You'll do no such thing," Hagrid said forcefully, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "You get him back fer that, I 'spect he'll go runnin' to his father, and you don' want Lucius Malfoy kockin' on yer doorstep."

"Lucius Malfoy?" Harry said. "The one had practically worshiped Voldemort in Flourish and Blotts?"

There was the predictable reaction to Voldemort's name: Ron spat out a mouthful of tea, Hermione have a small start, Hagrid nearly dropped his enormous mug, and Ginny vomited another eight slugs (although that may not have had anything to do with Harry uttering the name).

"Yes, the one who was in _You-Know-Who_'s inner circle," Hagrid said, putting emphasis on the hyphenated alias, "and I'll thank you if you'll not do that."

"Sorry," Harry said. "But he's never gotten his father involved before, and don't say they're even now that he's cursed Ginny and she's hexed him, she hasn't called him a — a — something, has she?"

Hagrid was spared the trouble of answering when Ginny spoke up. "I think they're mostly gone; we should get back to the castle before it's after dark."

"Yes, there, out yeh go," Hagrid said, ushering them to the door. "And Hermione, don' think on what he said for a moment. It's a load of codswallop; they haven't invented a spell yeh can' do."

And with a friendly smile, Hagrid closed the door behind them. All four started to walk back to the castle, Ginny slightly staggering, reducing their pace. By the time they were half-way back, it was darkening. Harry was hoping that they would not be found when —

"Well, what do we have here?"

It was Snape, striding down the grounds from the castle. His black eyes quickly surveyed the scene. "Mr. Malfoy told me that I might find four Gryffindors out of the castle past curfew."

"_Mr. Malfoy_," Harry shot back, "called Hermione a Mudblood and then cursed Ginny; that's why we're not in the common room."

As if to prove his point, a single slug erupted out of Ginny's mouth and landed in the grass at Snape's feet. Snape watched with some interest as it wriggled forward and nudged his shoe.

"Malfoy did this?" Snape inquired, his eyes unreadable. Ginny nodded once, keeping her mouth firmly closed.

Snape seemed to be thinking for a second or two, then said, "Get back to your dormitories, and ten points from Gryffindor. I will deal with Malfoy." When none of the children made to go back to the castle, Snape said impatiently, "Go, before I change my mind."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny wasted no time in getting back to the common room. After getting past the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione looked at Harry incredulously.

"We only got ten points off? And no detentions?"

"_And_ he'll deal with Malfoy," Harry said.

"No, he _said_ he'd deal with Malfoy," Ron argued. "You honestly expect Snape to punish his favorite Slytherin?"

While Ron had a point, Harry thought that Snape might keep his promise; why else would he even say something like that? He also couldn't suppress the suspicion that there was more going on that met the eye.

"I can't wait to see what Fred and George will do," Ginny said. When Ron looked at her questioningly, she elaborated, "He hexed their 'baby sister', remember? Oh, it'll be good."

They spent the rest of the evening discussing what they though the twins would do, and by the time they went to bed, Harry was in a significantly better mood.

-

_A/N: Again, sorry for the wait. Well, as always, reviews are welcome. I'll try to update faster in the future. _ _Also, when I have a projection of when this story _might_ be updated I will post it on my profile. _


	6. Secrets Revealed and Suspicions

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: So very sorry for the long amount of time it took to update. I got a case of the swine flu and wasn't able to do much, and then some other things came up. I hope it will never take this long again to update; I seem to have a bit more time to work on the story now. This is my longest chapter so far, so hopefully that will compensate a bit for the time._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

**Chapter Six: Secrets Revealed and Suspicions **

Initially, Harry was fairly disappointed with Fred and George. They had made it to lunch without seeing Draco, and the twins' prank hardly seemed to be a prank at all. When Draco was walking in the courtyard, George stuck out his foot and tripped Draco. He landed on the ground in an abnormally large cloud of dust, but Fred and George ran for it before a teacher showed up, and that looked to be the end of it.

Harry was headed to a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, which would mean seeing Draco again, something he was not looking forward to. He wasn't quite sure what he would be tempted to do to the Slytherin, and didn't want to add more detentions on to the ones he already had. When he arrived at the doors to the classroom he was dismayed to see that Lockhart had not opened them yet; he would have to wait outside. He had only waited a moment when Draco, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, walked up to him.

"Potter," Draco said, his voice quivering with rage and indignation.

"Malfoy," Harry responded, not intimated by the fisted hands of Draco's 'friends'.

"I have two weeks' detention," Draco said, his voice rising an octave. "_Detention_."

"Good," Harry said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. So Snape had kept his word. When Draco's eyes flashed, he continued. "You insulted Ginny, then you called Hermione a Mudblood, then you cursed Ginny. You _cursed_ her. And don't even start into how she got you once; you deserved it then."

As Harry turned to walk away, he heard Draco say, "Oh sure, defend your Mudblood friend and your little girlfriend, you can't get enough —"

Draco never finished his sentence, for Harry had reached his limit. Whirling around, he punched Draco as hard as he could in the jaw.

Harry vaguely remembered his Uncle Vernon advising Dudley never to punch someone in the jaw, and thought that this was sound advice; he felt like he had just punched a brick wall. However, Draco's teeth clicked together satisfyingly and his head jerked back. Crabbe and Goyle stepped in front of Draco immediately, and Harry might have been clobbered if it weren't for Ron and Hermione, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. They grabbed his arms and yanked him back, away from the two thugs' reach. The situation might have escalated if it wasn't for Lockhart, who chose that moment to throw open the door to his classroom. Seemingly obliviously to Draco, who was bleeding slightly from the mouth, the professor ushered them all inside, a smile predictably on his face.

* * *

Surprisingly, Harry was able to get out of his last detention with Lockhart at a reasonable time that night, and there were still a handful of people in the common room, including Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron was absentmindedly playing with a loose thread from his sleeve, and Hermione had a large pile of parchment, ink and quills on her lap; she was doing her homework. Ron and Hermione greeted him, but Ginny was too immersed in a large book to notice that Harry had arrived. Hermione waved a hand in front of Ginny's face.

"Hello? Ginny?"

Ginny jumped a little, startled. Blinking, she looked at Hermione, then Harry.

"Harry? Shouldn't you be detention?"

"Er —" Harry said, momentarily confused. Thankfully, Hermione answered for him.

"He got out of detention already, Ginny," Hermione said.

"Oh," Ginny said, looking abashed. "Must have lost track of time."

Harry looked curiously at the book she was reading. It was dusty, large, and had the air of something that had not been used in a while.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"Um," Ginny said, looking nervous. "Well —"

She was about to answer when Fred and George walked through the portrait hole, matching grins plastered on their faces.

"Why are you two smiling?" Harry demanded, momentarily distracted. "I thought you were going to get Malfoy or something — you just tripped him!"

Fred, still smiling, patted Harry on the back. "Harry, d'you really think that's all there was to it?" Fred asked. "Remember; don't count your curses until they've been cast. Speaking of curses, what is our dear sister reading?"

When Harry looked back at Ginny, she had a slightly guilty expression on her face. He leaned forward and read the title.

"_The Most Cruel and Evil of Jinxes, Hexes, Curses and Spells_." He looked at her incredulously. "Why are you reading up on 'cruel curses'? And how did you get that? That can't have been in the library."

"Well — it was," Ginny said. "It was in the restricted section, but I got Lockhart to sign a pass. Told him I wanted an autograph."

"Do you still have the pass?" Hermione asked excitedly, apparently forgetting about the book itself. "If it has his signature —"

Harry cleared his throat. "But why do you have that book in the first place?"

"Well…" Ginny looked uncomfortable. "I know what Hagrid said, but that was nasty when Malfoy cursed me. I can still taste those slugs. And seeing as how Fred and George didn't really seem to do much —"

"No one has any faith in us," George remarked to Fred, who nodded in agreement.

"— Seeing as they didn't seem to do much," Ginny continued, "I figured I should do something. Except the Bat-Bogey is too obvious; I've already used it on him once. And this book really isn't too bad, they're mostly harmless spells, only a few really nasty ones. I think I found the one I'm going to use, but just give me a minute or two to see if I can find another."

Ginny carefully folded the top corner of the page she was reading down, and flipped to another page. Hermione shot up so quickly that the ink spilled onto the floor.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"What?" Ginny said fearfully, her eyes also wide; she clutched the book to her chest protectively.

"You just folded the corner of that book down!"

Ginny glanced at the book that was pressed against her chest.

"Yeah," Ginny said, "I was just marking a page."

"It's a library book!" Hermione exclaimed, looking horrified. "You can't do that."

"No one had looked at it in ages, it was all covered in dust. It hasn't been checked out since —"

Ginny raised the book up to check the inside cover.

"— 1973, by someone called L.E. Anyway, it's not like I'm the only one who does it, this page had a little fold on it, I was just making it larger so I could see it better."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, and Fred stepped closer.

"What spell are you thinking of?"

Ginny smiled. "It's a secret. Nothing bad, though. I need a test subject. Hey…"

Ginny's grin grew even larger, and Fred slowly backed away, looking nervous. "Can I test it on you, Fred?"

A wary expression appeared on Fred's face, and he looked apprehensive. "I don't think so. If you're planning it for Malfoy, can't be anything good, can it?"

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad," Ginny assured him. "In fact, he won't be able to prove that it's a jinx."

"Painful?" Fred inquired. "Look-altering, humiliating?"

"No, no and yes," Ginny answered. When Fred didn't say anything, she widened her eyes to give herself the look of an adorably cute puppy. "Please?"

Her expression was of the magnitude that Harry considered volunteering, but apparently Fred was swayed. Sighing, he stepped into the center of the now deserted common room, and spread his arms wide.

"Okay," Fred said, bracing himself. Ginny raised her wand, waved it in a tight pattern, and said, "_Cassus Vesica_."

Harry did not see what happened, but Fred yelped at jumped around so that his back was facing the inhabitants of the room.

"Oi!" he yelled. "Merlin's pants, Ginny!"

George snickered. "'Pants' is right."

"Hey — what're you talking about?" Ron asked.

Fred did not answer, but stormed up to the boys' dormitories, his twin now doubled over in laughter, unable to say what this was about.

"What is it?" Ron demanded of George, but the older Weasley just shook his head and followed his brother to the dormitories.

"Keep an eye out for Malfoy tomorrow morning, will you?"

And on that cryptic note, George followed his brother up to bed, still chuckling under his breath. Ron now looked at Ginny.

"What is it?" he asked again, but she merely shook her head.

"You'll have to wait and see," Ginny said. "Harry, is it true?" she added.

"Er — is what true?" Harry asked.

"Did you really punch Malfoy?"

Harry gave a feeble nod, slightly unsure of what to say. Ginny looked like she was going to say something, but she just tucked the book under her arm and walked up to the girls' dormitories. Ron turned on Hermione, but she just shrugged; apparently her knowledge of spells did not cover obscure jinxes.

Hermione soon bored of what became Ron's one-sided discussion on what the jinx might be, and wandered off to bed. After ten more minutes Harry could not stand it any longer, and said he needed his sleep. Ron was forced to be quiet when they reached their beds, and Harry settled down, wondering what Fred and George mean about the next morning.

* * *

Harry watched out for Draco for all of the next morning, but he couldn't see him. As far as he could tell, the Slytherin wasn't at breakfast, an odd occurrence.

Harry had double Potions that morning, which made him feel distinctly unlucky. Spending a large chunk of the day in the dungeons with Snape was not his idea of a good day. But there was something that kept distracting him enough that his potion would have fouled up without Hermione surreptitiously making corrections: Draco Malfoy was still not in class. Why?

He got his answer half way through class. He had just narrowly avoided melting his cauldron when the doors burst open and Filch the caretaker ran into the room, huffing and puffing. Filch jogged over to Snape, his jowls quivering. As he whispered something into Snape's ear, a pained expression crossed the Potion Master's face. He waved a hand to dismiss Filch, and the ancient man left the way he had come.

"Everyone stay in their seats," Snape announced suddenly, causing several people to jump and drop the ingredients they had been holding. "I will only be gone a moment. Keep working; I shall know if you do not."

And on that enigmatic note, Snape stalked out of the room, looking quite irritable. Harry exchanged a look with Ron, but he just shrugged. After a minute or two of silence, Harry finally spoke up.

"What do you reckon that was about?" Harry asked.

"I have a feeling," Hermione said suddenly and unexpectedly, "that we're about to find out."

Harry shot her a questioning look, but she just turned back to her cauldron and continued working. Harry looked at Ron, but he just shrugged. Then, without warning, raised voices could be heard outside the classroom, through the closed doors.

"I'm not going in there!"

"You are acting like a little child. You have already missed —"

"Like a child? Me? It was those Weasley twins who did it, I know it, and I'm not going in."

"This is not debatable. You _will_ go to class. Or do you want more detention?"

It was Snape's voice, Harry was sure of that. But the other voice sounded like Draco Malfoy's. Harry was at a loss, though, to explain why Draco would be so vehemently resisting Snape's commands. He found out, in a moment, however, when the doors slammed open and Draco burst through, almost sprinting to his seat. But no amount of speed could hide what he was wearing: his pyjamas. While they were very formal, not at all what a more normal twelve-year old would wear to bed, they were definitely pyjamas. They were exactly what one would expect Draco to wear: Black and green, cuffs (fuzzy cuffs, but cuffs all the same), and it was tight fitting…extraordinarily tight fitting. As Harry watched Draco cower into his seat, he noticed that parts of the outfit that would usually hang a bit loose looked like they were glued to his skin.

"Fred and George did say to look out for something," Ron whispered gleefully into Harry's ear, causing Harry to jump in his seat.

"It must've been when they tripped him with all that dust," Harry said. "Maybe he can't them off or something. But why can't he just put something on over them?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "Sure looks like an idiot though, doesn't he?"

Harry had to agree. Most of the class had stopped brewing potions and were staring at Draco, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was. The boys were whispering to each other, and the girls were giggling; Draco's pale face was turning a bright shade of red. Snape, interestingly enough, seemed to have no pity for Draco and only silenced the conversations when they got too loud; Harry supposed it was because of the argument he had with the thoroughly embarrassed Slytherin.

Harry considered this one of the better Potions classes he had ever had; while he completely fouled up his Twitching Solution, Draco was so distracted that he actually melted a hole in his cauldron, causing his messed-up solution to quickly eat through the floor at an alarming rate. By the time Snape had put a stop to it, there was a three-foot deep hole in the floor.

* * *

When class was over, everyone but Draco filed out of their rows and proceeded out of the room, taking time to gawk at Draco; Draco's plan seemed to be to wait until everyone was gone to get out of his seat.

When Harry got out of the classroom and took a left, he almost ran straight into Fred and George: both were wearing big smiles on their faces.

"What'd you do?" Harry asked.

"Sprayed him with a special power," George answered.

"You remember how he tripped and there was all that dust?" Fred said, and Harry nodded. "Well," he continued, "It was a very _special_ kind of dust. Powder, really. Makes whatever you're wearing twelve hours after contact stick to you like a Permanent Sticking Charm —

"— And it's got something like a Repulsion Jinx on it," finished George, "So you can't put anything on over it."

There was a stunned silence, broken by Ron saying, "That was brilliant! Where did you get it?"

George didn't say anything, and for some reason looked almost apprehensive. He was saved the trouble of answering by Ginny appearing.

"Has Malfoy left yet?" she asked eagerly.

"No," Harry said. "Those two —" he indicated the twins, "— made him wear his nightclothes to class."

"We were hoping he slept in something more embarrassing," Fred said. "That he was one of those people who didn't wear a top to bed."

"You really would want Malfoy walking around topless?" Ginny asked, her nose crinkled at the idea. "Oh — here he comes!"

Sure enough, Draco, who had caught sight of the Weasley twins while in the process of slinking off, had now abandoned any effort to conceal himself and was storming over, a furious expression on his face; the look of fury seemed to be almost negated by his outfit.

"Hello, Draco," Fred said in a casual voice. "Forgot to change this morning, did we?"

"You — Weasley —"

Draco was having trouble speaking coherent sentences, and grabbed for his wand; Harry and Ron did the same. At that Lavender Brown, who had been watching the proceedings, dashed off, in search of help and presumably forgetting that they were not far from the Potions room — or maybe simply not wanting to interact with Snape.

"Take — it — off," Draco snarled.

"Sorry," Fred said, "But I think we all prefer your clothes _on_ your body. Besides, haven't you advanced to the age were you don't need help with that?"

Draco's face was now a color of red that surpassed even the typical Weasley blush, a fairly impressive accomplishment.

"Not that!" he said furiously. "I —"

While Draco had been ranting, Ginny had cautiously snuck her wand out of her robes. Harry saw her wave it in Draco's direction, and she said the same incantation that she had used when testing the spell on Fred. Draco emitted a yelp eerily similar to Fred's exclamation of last night, and clapped his hands around his groin; he almost dropped his wand in his haste to cover himself. Just like in class, however, he was not quick enough to hide what had happened to him: a large, dark stain had spread on the front of his pants. Harry now knew what had caused Fred to react as he had. Ginny, evidently pleased with her handiwork, snickered unkindly.

"I think you have some control problems, Malfoy," she said.

Draco raised his wand and pointed it at Ginny. "That was a jinx," he spat out. "When my Father —"

"When you father hears that you've invented a new excuse to cover up your failures, I'm sure he'll be very proud," Harry said, joining in. Draco raised his wand, and would no doubt have cast a curse if Lavender had not streaked back in at that moment, Professor McGonagall in tow.

"Wands away!" McGonagall said sharply. All wands were lowered, albeit reluctantly on Draco's part; none of them wanted to try and have a duel with a Head of House standing a few feet away. McGonagall surveyed the scene, taking in Draco's clothing.

"Ten points from Slytherin for not wearing proper attire," McGonagall said, making Draco sputter with indignation. Then she leaned closer and, in what was supposed to be a confidential whisper but was quite audible to everyone gathered around said, "Do you wish to see Madam Pomfrey about your…problem?"

Draco had finally been pushed past his breaking point. Forced to wear nightclothes to class and publicly humiliated in front of a hall of students, he exploded.

"No I do _not_ want to see anyone about my problem — I haven't got a problem!" he thundered.

"What is going on here?" asked a cold voice. Harry turned his head to see that Snape had joined the scene. He should have expected it; they were within shouting distance of his room. But Snape's presence unnerved Harry; Snape seemed to have a way of knowing what was going on without having to be told, and Fred, George and Ginny would get detention if the prank was revealed.

"Malfoy had a bit of a control issue," Fred said, while Draco said, "The Weasley girl used a Bladder-Emptying Jinx on me!"

Snape seemed to stiffen for a second, and opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it. Unsure of whether Snape was having a mental breakdown or deciding what kind of punishment to suggest to McGonagall, he quickly turned his head to see his head of house: McGonagall was looking at Snape with an odd expression on her face.

Taking advantage of the odd situation, Harry slowly began to edge away from the scene, along with Hermione and the Weasleys. Draco looked like he was going to protest, but McGonagall lightly grabbed his arm.

"Come on boy, let's see the headmaster; he'll be able to sort you out."

Seemingly deciding that he did not want to prolong his embarrassment any longer, Draco reluctantly followed McGonagall away. By this time most of the crowd has dissipated, and Harry had managed to make it almost all the way to the end of the hall. Harry glanced back at Snape to make sure that no objections were being raised to their departure, and noticed that Snape looked almost…well, stunned. Something odd was going on, and Harry had no intention of sticking around to find out what it was, lest he incur Snape's wrath.

"What was that about?" asked a voice from behind Harry's head, causing him to jump, thinking for a crazy moment thinking it was Snape; it was, of course, Ron, who was walking with him.

"Dunno," Harry said. "Snape looked a bit odd, didn't he?"

"What are you talking about Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Right when we were leaving, and he didn't take points or anything — didn't you see?"

The group around him collectively shook their heads.

"Maybe you just imagined it, mate," Ron said, clapping Harry on the back. Now come on, it's time for lunch!"

* * *

The next two weeks passed without incident of any kind, but also without anything interesting happening. Dumbledore had been able to remove whatever had fixed Draco's pyjamas to his skin, but there was no real investigation into who did it or the jinx Ginny hit Draco with. While Harry was certain that Draco didn't consider them even, the stakes were high enough that even he wouldn't risk it unless the chance was handed to him.

Which it was one bleary Sunday.

The weather was of a strength that Quidditch practices and games were canceled. Apparently it was an atmospheric charm gone horribly wrong; the grounds were in a constant state of blizzard. Harry had expected Dumbledore or Flitwick to put it right, but both professors either seemed content to let the weather play itself out or were unable to do anything about it.

The mood of the school was mutinous almost to a person; Hermione was quite possibly the only person enjoying the time inside, as it gave her a chance to spend extra time on her schoolwork. The only discussion that Harry, Ron and Ginny were having regarded the 'Chamber of Secrets', whatever that was; the writing on the wall had said that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Flich had cleared the wall of the blood before any other students had arrived, so the whole school did not know about the whole "Enemies of the heir, beware," business. The question was who had opened it. Draco was their prime suspect for opening it, but even Hermione was having trouble thinking what could have attacked Justin.

Dumbledore and the other professors must have noticed the attitudes of the students, for when Harry and Ron came down to the common room on a Monday morning a sign had been put up on the common room notice boards:

**DUELING CLUB**

**Any student interested in learning how to use defensive and offensive spells to duel should meet in the Great Hall on Sunday, the 17th of December. Minor injuries are possible. Cost: Free. **

"Wicked," Ron said. "A Dueling Club! 'Defensive and offensive spells' — sounds like we're going to do something fun for a change. Only Hermione —"

"'Only Hermione' what?" asked a voice from behind them: Hermione and Ginny had made their way down too, along with a pack of fourth years.

"Yeah, what can Hermione exclusively do?" Ginny added.

"Er —" Ron said, evidentially not wanting to admit that he was about to have said that she was the only one who was enjoying this time.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Does this have something to do with me spending all this time inside productively instead of whining about not having Quidditch?"

Ron didn't answer.

* * *

So it was that at eight o' clock that Sunday the four Gryffindors made their way to the Great Hall (Ron hadn't put up much of a fuss about Ginny going, to Harry's surprise). Lately it had not been pleasant to be in the Great Hall, for it had seemingly make a decision to imitate the weather outside, and was snowing so much that meals were not a fun time of day. However, the hall seemed to be cooperating for today, and the hall was snow free.

"What professors do you think going to be there?" Harry asked the group at large.

"I think Flitwick might be there," Hermione said. "Apparently he was a dueling champion when he was young. And he just put the Great Hall's atmospheric charm right, so he should be there anyway."

"Well, I'll be happy as long —" Harry started to say, but trailed off when he saw the three professors with a large gathering of students around them. As Hermione had predicted, the tiny Charms professor was there, but so were the two people Harry had been most fervently hoping _wouldn't_ be there: Snape and Lockhart. Snape had been particularly viscous towards Harry ever since the prank incident with Draco, and he didn't know why. Lockhart….he just didn't want to be taught any more by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor then he had to. Interestingly enough, both Flitwick and Snape were staring at Lockhart as if wondering why he was there, the latter with undisguised contempt on his face.

When the time slid to eight, the scheduled time for it to start, the crowd of students Snape opened his mouth to speak, but Lockhart suddenly and loudly interrupted Snape before the Potions Master could begin to speak.

"Welcome, welcome, it's great to see you all!" Lockhart beamed, flashing one of his iconic smiles. "Now, today we're going to be learning about dueling, and Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick here have gladly volunteered to be my assistants for this —"

"Excuse me, _Professor_ Lockhart," Snape said, his upper lip curling. "But I do believe that Professor Flitwick and myself are supposed instruct these students. You were here to help move the tables out of the way, correct?"

"Well —" blustered Lockhart, but Snape cut him off again.

"Perhaps we had better get started. Everyone, pair up with another student within one year of your own. In other words," Snape added when a few of the students looked at him uncomprehendingly, "you will not partner up with someone that is more advanced than you by a year or less by a year; we don't want the talents of a fourth year matched up with those of a first." ("I was just about to suggest that!" Lockhart said.)

"Right," Ron said as everyone started to find a partner. "Ginny, I'll partner with you, so Harry and Herm —"

"Oh no you don't," Ginny said angrily. "Don't think I don't know why you let me come down here without a protest. You knew I'd come anyway, and you wanted to make sure I didn't have any possibility of getting hit by any spell, right?"

When Ron didn't deny it, Ginny continued. "_You_ can go with Harry or Hermione, and —"

"Stop bickering," Snape's cold voice said from behind them; he had evidently been moving through the crowd to make sure that everyone was following instructions. "As you four seem to lack the ability to get into groups yourself…"

Snape stepped suddenly between them, making Hermione and Ginny scoot back. Now Harry was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ron, who was standing across from Hermione. Harry was facing Ginny.

"Everyone ready?" Flitwick squeaked. When there was a general nodding of heads, he went on. "First we will practice the Disarming Charm. The incantation is '_Expelliarmus_'. Please decide with your partner who to practice on first, and then hold both your wands and a ready position. Once you do that, bow to each other; I will then count to three and you will take turns disarming, or trying to disarm, your partner. Go on, decide…"

Harry looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

"Go," Flitwick said, and all around Harry people were bowing to their partners.

Harry, feeling silly, bowed to Ginny. He then raised his wand and said, "_Expelliarmus_." Ginny's wand flew out of her hand, and Harry caught it in his free left hand.

Something impacted Harry in the back of his head, and he stumbled forward as Ron's wand bounced off his head.

"Stop."

Snape's voice cut through the room, and cries of "_Expelliarmus;_" died down. A sneer crossed Snape's face as he surveyed the crowd.

"It seems most of you have a problem," Snape said. "Maybe a demonstration would help…Potter, get over here. Malfoy."

The center of the room was clear of all students, and Harry made his way to it. On the other side he saw Draco, wand in hand. Harry's grip tightened on his wand: it looked like he was about to be pitted against Draco Malfoy with a large audience around him.

"Bow to each other," Flitwick said, but even as Harry was inclining his head down in what could hardly be called a bow, Draco shouted, "_Tarantallegra_!"

Harry's legs went into some kind of uncontrollable dance, almost causing him to fall over. Directing his wand at Draco, Harry said, "_Petrificus Totalus_," and much like when Hermione had cast the Body-Bind Curse on Neville, Draco seemed to freeze, and then he toppled face-forward onto the ground.

Snape stepped forward and waved his wand, and Draco unfroze; helping Draco up, Snape whispered something in the Slytherin boy's ear. Seeing as Snape wasn't interested in stopping Harry from doing the tap dance, Flitwick said, "_Finite Incantatem_," and Harry stopped dancing.

"Disarming charms onl —" started Flitwick, but Draco cast a spell first.

"_Serpensortia_!"

Just like in Dumbledore's office, a snake flew out of the end of the wand, except this time it was Draco controlling the snake, not Snape. Not wanting to take his eyes off the advancing serpent, he yelled for help: "_Get rid of it!"_

Except, just like before, it came out as a mangled hissing noise instead of English. The snake stopped dead in its tracks, and Snape casually walked over to it and Vanished it.

Harry looked around; everyone was staring at him. He remembered Ron's words: "Only dark wizards are Parselmouths."

This could mean no good.

* * *

"That went horribly," Ginny remarked as the group of four walked back to the common room. "We got about two seconds of dueling, and then everyone heard you speak in Parseltongue."

Harry couldn't disagree with this statement. He had left the Great Hall with a good portion of the school gossiping behind his back. Not everyone would think him a dark wizard…would they? On the one hand Harry was credited with defeating Voldemort when he was an infant, and had thwarted him again not even half a year ago. On the other side — people could be stupid.

Harry hated Draco for conjuring the snake, and hated Snape even more for telling him how to.

"He told Malfoy to do that," Ron said suddenly, voicing Harry's thoughts. "Snape, that is. Malfoy used the same spell that Snape used in Dumbledore's office."

"Yes, and it's not a very common spell," Hermione said. "There's not anything you can prove, though; it's technically possible that he could have learned it elsewhere. Snowcaps," Hermione added as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"How long d'you think it'll take for people to start blaming me for Justin?" Harry asked bitterly, stepping into the mostly deserted room (most of the Gryffindors were in bed already or attending the still-functioning dueling club) and sitting down on a couch. "People are looking for someone to go after.I'll place a bet for tomorrow."

"But not many people would think that, would they?" Ginny asked worriedly. "Professor Dumbledore said it would have taken Dark magic to Petrify him. How could anyone think that when Harry was the one who defeated You-Know — Vol — Voldemort?"

Harry was so surprised that he didn't even notice Ron's predictable wince at the name. Ginny had gone to the trouble to actually say Voldemort's name, something hardly anyone he knew but Dumbledore did.

Harry blinked, and noticed that he was staring at Ginny, along with both Ron and Hermione.

"You said You-Know-Who's name," Ron said, as though he had never heard 'Voldemort' uttered before.

"Figured I should get in the habit if Harry's going to say it all the time," Ginny said with a small smile on her face.

"Thanks," Harry said, and for some reason any other words got caught up in his throat. He did not know why Ginny saying Voldemort's name meant so much to him…or maybe he did. It felt like a gesture to show that he was not alone, something he needed badly; he had a feeling that in the near future, life at Hogwarts was not going to be as much fun as it was now. For despite what Ginny had said, and the fact that he had not only warded off Voldemort when he was an infant, but _also_ fought him not half a year ago, he suspected that might be forgotten in favor of a more exiting theory on the Boy-Who-Lived being the Boy-Who-Petrified.

"What was that about 'Who-Petrified'?" Hermione asked. To his embarrassment, Harry realized he must have been thinking, at least partially, aloud.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Was I, er, talking aloud?"

"How else would you be talking?" said a bemused Ginny. Harry's answer was stopped by a yawn; it was getting late, and he was getting tired.

"Bed," Hermione said bossily. "You've got Herbology first thing tomorrow, then Transfiguration, remember? And you were going to write your conclusion for that essay before breakfast."

"Right," Harry said, in no mood to argue. "Good night, then."

* * *

Harry was running down that corridor, he was still at Hogwarts but hadn't been at that section. That mad laughter was reverberating, bouncing off the walls around him, chasing him as he ran, his arms heavily weighed down by someone. He suddenly stopped, turned around and started to run in the other direction, then turned around and started to run in the same direction he had started off running. All the while he was thinking the same thing:

_I need…I need…I need…I need —_

But before he could put his mind on what he needed, a sinister, hissing voice took over.

_Need to kill…hungry…let out…smell you…COMING…._

Harry woke with a start, his nightclothes drenched with sweat. Jumping out of bed, he dashed over to Ron's bunk, pulled back the curtains, and started shaking his friend.

"Ron! Wake up!" Harry yelled, inadvertently rousing Dean and Seamus, both of which had not been in the dormitory when Harry had retired for the night. Neville was still sleeping.

"Whasawagoinon?" Ron mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

"Ron! I can hear it, just like before Justin got attacked. Wake up!"

As Ron groaned and rolled out of bed, Harry noticed that he was catching odd looks from Dean and Seamus, who both, Harry realized, would have witnessed the Parselmouth incident.

"What's hearing?" Ron said sleepily.

"The voice in the wall, that's what. Come _on_, Ron, it's just like before."

Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and roughly dragged him out of bed and down the staircase to the common room. Given that it was past two o'clock in the morning Harry had been fully expecting the common room to be deserted. So it came as a great surprise when he almost literally ran into none other than Ginny, who was sopping wet, and looked exhausted.

"Ginny — what — what're you doing here?" Harry stammered out.

Ginny blinked sleepily at Harry. "I couldn't sleep," she said with a yawn, "so I went for a walk."

This didn't quite add up, in Harry's opinion; Ginny looked like she was about to fall asleep right as she was standing there, and how she got soaked in water when on a walk past curfew was beyond him.

"How did you get soaked?" asked a slightly more awake Ron, voicing Harry's thoughts.

"Spilled something," Ginny said vaguely. Harry would have tried to get more information out of her, but he could hear the voice from far, far away.

"Ron, we have to go," Harry said urgently. "Ginny, the voices in the walls are there, just like before," he explained.

"Voices…sounds nice…tea…have fun at the party," Ginny mumbled, and collapsed onto a chair, apparently asleep, a small book clutched in her right hand. Harry blinked a few times, and then dashed for the portrait of the Fat Lady, still dragging Ron behind him. Ignoring the Fat Lady's protests, Harry slammed the portrait behind him, and sprinted in the direction he could hear the voices. It then occurred to him that he didn't have a wand — and neither did Ron. If they did have to face off against someone or something, they would be woefully under-armed.

_Kill._

Harry could hear it, and the voice sounded tantalizingly familiar, even though it belonged to no person he could think of.

Harry was mid-way through a long corridor when he saw something glistening red on the wall: writing.

_NO!_

If anything, the voice sounded furious now, and it was growing fainter. It seemed like whatever had been talking must not have counted on the presence of two wizards. Perhaps it had hoped to do whatever it was going to do by itself…or perhaps it was coming back. Harry took a moment to glance at the writing, which seemed to have been written in blood again.

THE MUDBLOODS WILL BE DRIVEN OUT OF THIS SCHOOL. LEAVE OR DIE. SO SAYS THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN.

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, who suddenly seemed more awake.

"We should probably get out of here," Ron said nervously. "We don't really have an excuse to be here this time…"

Ron's voice had trailed off, for he had spotted something lying on the ground.

"Is that — another body?"

Ron had voiced Harry's exact thought, for there was a small shape lying on the ground. Upon closer inspection Harry could see that it was a Gryffindor first-year by the name of Colin Creevey, who had been following Harry around and had been taking pictures of Harry whenever possible.

"Is he dead?" Ron asked faintly.

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "Look, he's holding that camera tightly; I think he's been Petrified, just like Justin. But what was he doing out here?"

"A question," said a voice Harry recognized as Snape's, "that I might ask you two."

Wincing and turning around slowly, Harry saw that Snape was standing behind them. Apparently Snape had heard their running and had come to investigate.

* * *

If Harry didn't know better, he would have said that he was still asleep and having a nightmare. Snape had quickly summoned Dumbledore, and while the Headmaster had allowed Harry and Ron to go back to their dormitories for what remained of the sleeping hours, they would have to meet with before the start of breakfast; the circumstances were just too suspicious. And the glint in Snape's eye when he had walked away had only served to make Harry more nervous, he knew that Snape was going to do something, and also knew that he wasn't going to like it.

When he stumbled back through the portrait hole and into the common room, he was not surprised to see Ginny still lying on a couch, eyes closed. He was only disabused of the notion that she was asleep when her eyes popped open while he walked past.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, sounding a little less tired, but still thoroughly soaked with water.

"Another attack," Harry said wearily. "There was writing again, rooster blood Snape said. 'The Mudbloods will be driven out of this school. Leave or die. So says the Heir of Slytherin.' It was Creevey who was attacked."

Ginny's eyes widened at this and she sat up. Colin was in her year, and they had been on a pretty friendly basis.

"Is he —" Ginny stopped at the end of her sentence, but Harry could tell that she meant to say 'dead'.

"No. Snape said that his camera saved him somehow, like it was a shield. I dunno. Never thought I'd be thankful for that camera," Harry said with a worn-out laugh. Ginny laughed too, but it sounded forced.

"We should get back to bed," Ron said. "Not that there's a whole lot of time left to sleep, though. Hey, shouldn't you be in your dormitory?" Ron added with a look at Ginny.

"I'll be up a minute or two, you two go along," Ginny said, looking as though she was mustering the energy to leave the comfort of the couch.

Harry nodded, only half hearing what she said; the adrenaline of the adventure had worn off, leaving him suffering from lack of sleep.

* * *

Ginny waited until both Harry and Ron were safely out of sight, and then stopped feigning laziness. She sat upright on the couch and opened the diary she wrote in so frequently, and frantically searched around for a quill and ink; Hermione had left some on the table next to the couch, and Ginny snatched it up and began to write.

"Dear Tom,  
I'm afraid. I told you about the row I had with Colin yesterday, and now he's been attacked! And Harry said there was writing on the wall, something about the Heir of Slytherin. It was in blood, and when I fell asleep I woke up in the girl's bathroom, covered in blood and a few feathers. I think I'm the one who's doing all of this."

There were a few seconds where nothing happened, and then the words Ginny had written sunk into the page and were predictably replaced by new words.

"_Don't be silly, Ginerva. How could you be the Heir of Slytherin? You worry too much, it's just a coincidence. Don't worry, I promise.  
You said Harry told you about all this? Why don't you tell me a bit more about Harry Potter."_

_A/N: Hopefully chapter seven will be up in much less time then this one was. As always, reviews are welcomed._


	7. Lost and Found

**Just You and Me**

_  
A/N: This was originally going to be the first half of different chapter, but to reduce wait time the single chapter will be split up into two parts._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

**Chapter Seven: Lost and Found **

It was nothing short of a miracle that Harry managed to drag himself out of bed early in the morning to talk to Dumbledore, and an even greater feat that he had been able to wake up Ron. Both of them were sleep deprived, and they took several wrong turns on the way there, Ron walking right into a wall that was pretending to be an open archway. When they finally reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry muttered, "Sugar Quill," the password that Dumbledore had given him the night before, and the gargoyle obligingly leapt back for him. Dumbledore was absent, but besides that the Headmaster's office was the same as it had been when he had last been in it: the many unusual objects scattered around the room, the small library of books, portraits on the wall (a few of which were empty) and the very odd bird who, Harry noticed, was not looking very well at the moment. And there was the Sorting Hat on the wall.

Harry glanced at Ron, but his friend was asleep in a chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, snoring softly. Harry tiptoed over to the hat, grabbed it from the shelf it resided on, and lowered it onto his head.

"Harry Potter," the hat said, and if a hat could sound amused then Harry would have sworn the Sorting Hat did now. "I've been wondering when you would come back along."

"Oh, you have?" Harry muttered, trying not to wake Ron up.

"Oh yes," the hat affirmed. "You've been wondering if I put you in the right house."

"Erm," Harry said, casting a nervous look at Ron. "Well, yes."

"I do stand by what I said, Harry Potter."

"Really?" Harry said, surprised; he had been expecting (and fearing) that the hat would have said it had made a mistake by placing him in Gryffindor.

"Oh yes," the hat continued. "You would have done well in Slytherin."

Startled and shaking, Harry yanked the hat off his head and stared at it for a long moment. The hat was limp and looked like an ordinary, albeit old and ragged, hat.

"You're wrong," Harry said, but the seeds of doubt had been reinforced.

"Wha's wrong?" Ron said, blinking. "Is Dumbledore here yet?"

At that very moment the door to the office was opened and Dumbledore strode into the room, his cloak trailing slightly behind him. "Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said brightly. "Good to see you Mr. Weasley."

Harry could not honestly return the compliment; he was not sure exactly what was going to happen right now, but right now he would rather be almost anywhere else. Ron either felt the same way or he was too intimated by Dumbledore's presence to speak. Harry couldn't tell which it was.

Dumbledore glanced over at the ill-looking bird, which was now making gagging sounds. "He's not looking to good, is he?" Dumbledore sighed. "I wish he would get on with it."

Harry was rather shocked to hear Dumbledore talking so callously about his own pet, but they had more pressing matters. Harry cleared his throat. "Um, sir?" he said tentatively. "What do you want with us?"

"To talk," Dumbledore said simply. "As I said last time we met, when you found Justin Finch-Fletchley, I do not believe that it is possible for either of you to have done this horrible deed. Forgive me, but you do not —at this point in your life — possess the prodigious skills that would be needed for such a complicated piece of magic. But you _must_ understand how it looks. In both cases you two have been out of Gryffindor tower when you should not have been, and in both cases there is no obvious explanation for why you were both there. Last time we had established that you are a Parseltongue, Harry. Please answer me truthfully: Is that why you were at the scenes of the Petrifactions?"

Harry nodded. What good would it do to keep it from Dumbledore? The whole school must know by now that he was a Parselmouth, and if he could trust anyone it would be the Headmaster.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Ron, who glanced at Harry to seek some sort of approval; Harry did not object, and Ron trotted out of the room and down to breakfast.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, "while I have no doubt that you share most everything with your friends, this is something that I would prefer to tell you in private, so that you may choose to keep it to yourself if you wish."

Dumbledore folded his hands and closed his eyes, and for a moment looked much older than he usually did, and very tired.

"Have you been wondering —"

Dumbledore was cut off by a bright flash of light: his bird has burst into flames, and was rapidly turning into a miniature fireball. Alarmed, Harry looked to Dumbledore who was, incredibly, smiling.

"About time," Dumbledore said happily. "He's been looking dreadful for days."

Harry blinked, and Dumbledore chuckled at the expression on his face.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "Phoenixes burst into flame — as you have seen — and are reborn from the ashes. Look."

Dumbledore pointed to the bottom of the perch, where there was a pile of ashes; a very ugly little bird poked his head out of the ashes.

"I must insist that you come see him on a different day besides his Burning Day," Dumbledore said brightly. "He's very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. He's an amazing creature, Harry. Able to carry immensely heavy loads, incredible healing powers in his tears…and he's a highly faithful pet."

Dumbledore reached a finger out to the unsightly newborn bird, which nuzzled his finger.

"Sir?" Harry said tentatively. "You were asking me a question?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, and with a sigh the happy expression slid from his face. "I was asking if you had wondered _why _exactly itis that you are able to speak Parseltongue."

"Um," Harry said, unsure of how to respond. He had been wondering, but he was beginning to suspect he might not want to know the answer. "Yes," he said finally.

Dumbledore folded his hands and looked Harry straight in the eye; Harry had never seen a more serious expression on his face.

"As you may or may not be aware," Dumbledore said, "one of the defining traits of Salazar Slytherin was that he could speak to snakes, and it is something that was and is almost exclusively restricted to his direct relatives. It is something that was passed on through the generations, down his family line."

"So — I'm related —"

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop Harry. "No, as far as I know you are not descended from the Slytherin line. However, you have met someone who is."

Something Ron had said floated to the top of Harry's head. '_Well — I only meant — they're _usually_ dark — You-Know-Who was one!_'

"Voldemort," Harry said without needing to think about it.

"Exactly," Dumbledore confirmed. "And it appears that on that one horrible, horrible night that your parents were killed, something happened when he tried to kill you, Harry. If I am not mistaken — and forgive me if I turn out to be — he transferred some of his powers to you at the same time he gave you that scar."

Harry was horrified. "D'you mean that I've got some of Voldemort in me right now?"

Something flickered in Dumbledore's eyes, something unreadable that did not linger for even a second. "I mean that he inadvertently gave you his ability to speak to snakes," Dumbledore responded. "This is not the time, for me or for you, to discuss that sort of subject any further."

Harry's mind was spinning, and it was with effort that he found the concentration to say, "Yes sir."

"There is another matter at hand," Dumbledore continued, jerking Harry out of his reverie. "As I have said, I do not believe that you are guilty of anything besides curiosity in both cases. However, if word of your presence at the attacks leaks out, I am sorry to say that you might find your fellow students not as convinced of your innocence."

Dumbledore removed his glasses from his crooked nose and rubbed his forehead. "I know you were quite an investigator last year; you discovered the stone, found out that it was in danger — if not from the person you suspected — and with the help of your friends puzzled your way through the defenses. I must admit that I am afraid you will try and do the same this year, and I must ask you not to. The situation right now is quite possibly as serious, if not more, as when Voldemort was wandering around the school last year. I wish to tell you something in the hopes that it will dissuade you from pursuing this mystery."

Harry was paying full attention now, sleepiness gone. He had a feeling that he was going to hear something very important.

"Before I say anything, may I have your promise that you will keep this information to yourself, and if anyone else, only to your close friends?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded.

"Good," Dumbledore continued. "You know what the messages written in blood on the walls have said. 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.' 'So says the Heir of Slytherin.' Very mystifying statements…unless you have prior knowledge as to their meanings."

"Um…" Harry said, lost.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore stated. "You see, when Hogwarts was founded by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, they lived together in harmony for a handful of years. But then Slytherin wanted to change the rules on who would be allowed into Hogwarts. He was of the belief that Muggle-borns, possibly even Half-bloods were unworthy of the school, and in Slytherin's mind only the so-called purebloods should be allowed entrance."

"I'll bet," Harry said before he could stop himself, thinking of Draco Malfoy and his father.

Dumbledore smiled. "Quite. The founder of your house, Godric Gryffindor, disagreed quite vehemently with Slytherin on the subject, and Slytherin took leave of the school, but not before constructing a hidden chamber somewhere in the castle. A _secret_ chamber."

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry said.

"Yes. According to the same sources from which we hear about the chamber, we hear about a monster that resides in it, lying dormant until the Heir of Slytherin comes to purge the Muggle-borns from the school. Of course, just as with any legend, this must be taken with a pinch of salt."

Dumbledore paused for a second. "About fifty years ago we received what I consider proof that there was indeed a Chamber of Secrets. I shall not get into details, but suffice to say that there were attacks just like this year, with a notable exception. A girl died fifty years ago, Harry."

Harry felt his blood run cold. If this had happened before, and someone had died then, did this mean that the mysterious thing was going to attack and kill one of his friends? Ron? Hermione? Ginny?

"I hope you see," Dumbledore continued, "why it is _imperative_ that you not go out and try to find the attacker. Trust me when I say that help is not needed in this investigation."

Harry was about to respond when something odd happened: a painting of a wizard with white hair rushed into one of the empty portraits. "Headmaster, I have news!" the portrait shouted. Harry's heart sank. Had there been another attack?

"Very well Everard," Dumbledore said, standing up. "What is it?"

Everard shook his head. "Come closer so I can whisper."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed from the portrait to Harry, and then the headmaster stepped over to the painting and obligingly put his head next to it. Harry could hear whispers, but nothing more. After half a minute, Dumbledore pulled back with a very angry expression on his face, something that Harry was unused to seeing — and not something he particularly wished to see in the future.

"You are positive?" Dumbledore asked the portrait.

"Yes," Everard said. "I was having a cup of tea in the portrait of the Yewelt triplets, the one that's in the Great Hall. Couldn't miss it."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said tersely. "Kindly fetch Severus for me as soon as he is finished with his next class."

Everard nodded and ducked out of the portrait again, evidently to visit another painting.

"What are your next classes today," Dumbledore asked Harry.

"Potions, double Defense Again —"

"You are excused from Potions," Dumbledore interrupted. "Go straight back to your dormitory; you will find breakfast there."

"Er — right," Harry said, and walked out of Dumbledore's office, casting glances over his shoulder as he went.

* * *

Harry had no idea how it had gotten there, but there was a very nice breakfast laid out for him when he returned to the empty common room. He had just gotten a start on his toast when Ron and Hermione walked in, looking thoroughly unhappy.

"What are you two doing here?" Harry said in surprise.

"We were pulled out of class to come see you," Hermione explained.

"Er — what's going on?" Harry asked. "First a portrait tells Dumbledore something, then he tells me to skive off Potions and eat some breakfast here, then you two show up during the middle of what should be Potions."

Ron started tapping his foot, and Hermione began to examine to walls.

"Well," Ron began, "Snape kind of…"

"What?" Harry said impatiently. "What did Snape kind of do?"

"Oh, Harry, we were at breakfast, and we heard Snape tell Malfoy that you were at both the attacks, but he said it really loud, and then Malfoy started to yell about it, and now almost the whole school knows," Hermione said in a rush. Harry stared at her.

"So let me get this straight," Harry said slowly. "Snape told Malfoy — and by extension everyone in the Great Hall — that I was pretty much the first person to find both Justin and Colin."

Hermione nodded, a miserable expression on her face. "I'm so sorry," she said apologetically.

Harry said nothing, and looked away. It had been obvious to him that Snape's animosity towards Harry lately had been greater than usual, but letting the whole school know? Harry wasn't keen to find out what the reactions of his fellow classmates were, but he would have to face them come Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"What'd Dumbledore tell you after he sent me out?" Ron asked. Harry told them a condensed version of what Dumbledore had told him, starting with Fawkes and ending in Everard reporting Snape's actions.

"You can speak Parseltongue because You-Know-Who can?" Ron said, a disgusted look on his face. "Creepy."

Harry shot him a dirty look. "Thanks. That really makes me feel loads better. Hey — where's Ginny?"

Harry's overtaxed brain had just registered that his third friend was missing.

"Still in class, I reckon," Ron said. "Won't see her until after Lockhart."

As the three sat there in relative silence, Ron eating the majority of Harry's breakfast, Harry realized something. As much as he welcomed the company and — to a certain degree — sympathy of Ron and Hermione, he would have traded both of their presences for Ginny to be in the common room with him. Harry scratched his head thoughtfully. He did not know why this was the case. Perhaps it was something about her demeanor. Ron bordered on insensitive half of the time; Hermione had a tendency to get overanxious and think some things through too much, but Ginny…Harry didn't know quite what it was.

Now that Harry thought of it, Ginny had been looking like _she_ could use some cheering up lately. He was positive that she didn't think he had anything to do with the attacks, after what she had said, but during the past few days Ginny hadn't been able to meet his eyes. Something was going on, but Harry didn't have a clue what it was.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a complete disaster, not unlike most of Harry's life at the moment. Lockhart was blissfully oblivious regarding anything that Snape had said, but the joint class of Slytherins and Gryffindors were not. The jeers of Draco Malfoy and his gang were nothing new, but the reaction from his own house was. He had endured a period where every Gryffindor seemed to hate him, back when he had helped loose two-hundred points, but people weren't mad at him now, they were terrified. Harry had sat at a table with just Ron and Hermione, because no one else seemed to be brave enough to set next to him.

"This is ridiculous," Harry said during lunch. Ron had grabbed a load of food from the Great Hall, and was eating it along with Harry, Hermione and Ginny in the common room. The common room was deserted, which was why they were there; Harry did not want to eat lunch with a group of people who shrunk back when he approached them.

"Can't do anything about it," Ron said, shrugging while eating another mouthful of food. "They'll come 'round sometime."

"Yeah — like in a couple years. No problem waiting that long," Harry said sarcastically. "I was thinking we should try and find out who's doing this."

Hermione choked on her tea, and Ginny thumped her on the back. "You can't do that!" Hermione protested. "Dumbledore told you about the Chamber specifically to _stop_ us from doing something like that. He said someone died last time, remember?"

"I'm not talking about going out and trying to find the monster that's supposed to be in there," Harry said indignantly. "I'm talking about getting the truth out of someone. Draco Malfoy, specifically."

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "Why would Malfoy know about the Chamber?"

"He's an evil git?" Ron suggested.

"Well, yes," Harry said, "but that wasn't why I thought of it. It's just — I don't know how to explain it. But if there's anyone who knows about it, it'll be Malfoy. He might be the Heir himself, he's so purebloodish. And his father could have opened the Chamber when _he_ was at school."

"'Purebloodish'?" Hermione said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "That's not a word. And Lucius Malfoy couldn't have opened it, he's not old enough. You said that Dumbledore told you it was opened about fifty years ago."

"So his grandfather opened it," Harry said, refusing to be stumped. "C'mon, don't you want the real person uncovered?"

There was silence, and then Ginny spoke in a small voice. "I don't — I don't think we should find out."

"Why?" Harry asked. He was surprised; if he could have picked anyone that would have supported a plan like that he would have thought Ginny would have. In the time he had known her she had shown an independent streak, and no aversion to action — especially if Malfoy was involved.

"I just — I don't — how would we even do anything?" Ginny said weakly. "Malfoy's not going to just tell you his deepest secrets."

"That's exactly what I'm hoping he'll do," Harry responded.

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, causing Harry to start. "Polyjuice Potion!"

"Polywhat?" Ron asked.

"Poly — juice — Potion," Hermione enunciated. "Snape —"

"— Told us about it a couple days ago, yeah," Harry finished. "You put something of someone, usually hair, into it, and you change into them for an hour. That's what I was going to say."

There was a silence, broken by Ron saying, "How d'you remember that? I don't remember him saying that."

"That was the time where he kept taking five points from Gryffindor every time I couldn't tell him what ingredient to use and in what order," Harry said grimly. "Not likely to forget that anytime soon."

"Hey, maybe Snape's the Heir of Slytherin," Ron suggested.

"Oh, Ron, we suspected Snape _all_ of last year and it turned out he was trying to help Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Right, not Snape," Harry agreed, trying to get on Hermione's good side. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were all missing something, but he couldn't think of what it could be. "So…what do you say? Wait until Christmas when almost everyone's gone home — Malfoy's sure to stick around in case there's any more attacks — and change into a group of Slytherins that 'changed their mind' about leaving Hogwarts for the break?"

"Apparently you didn't remember the part where it takes at least two months to brew," Hermione said coolly.

"Oh…yeah," Harry said, stymied. "Forgot about that."

"Flask in his office," Ginny said quietly.

"What was that?" Harry said.

"There was a flask of it — if we were to do this, we'd just be talking to Malfoy, right?"

"Er — yeah," Harry said, not able to decipher Ginny's odd behavior.

"Well — he mentioned it in our class," Ginny continued hesitantly, "and he's got a bit of it in a flask that he brought into his office. So unless he used it, there should be some."

"Break into Snape's office?" Hermione said. "We'd be in so much trouble if we were caught."

"Might not be a school left to get expelled from if this continues," Ginny said darkly. "Last time they were talking about closing the school."

"What do you mean 'last time'?" Harry said quickly. "Who told you about the last time the Chamber was opened?"

Ginny's eyes widened. "I — I don't remember. I heard someone say that."

Harry did not think this a very likely story, considering that Dumbledore had made it sound like it was not commonly known that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before. Something in Ginny's expression, however, made Harry think twice about pursuing the topic.

"So how are we going to get that potion?" Harry asked.

"A diversion might work," Hermione said thoughtfully. "One of you two — Harry or Ron — could distract him while I sneak into his office and steal the potion."

Harry blinked. "Hermione, are you offering to break into a teacher's office? After you just said this was a bad idea?"

"Temporary insanity," Hermione said. "We're just going after Malfoy, right?"

Harry nodded. "Now we need some hairs…"

* * *

As it turned out, Ron was the one who had to divert Snape's attention. Harry had returned to Potions on the following Tuesday, but there had been no opportunity to cause any distraction. Instead of antagonizing Harry as usual, Snape was ignoring Harry, who suspected Dumbledore had a hand in this. Instead of a practical lesson they had to copy the section on Dittany out of their textbook; nothing existed that could be made to explode or melt down.

On Wednesday, December 20th, only a handful of days before break, Harry, Ron and Hermione had Potions again, this time for their last class of the day. Usually Harry would consider a week that included three Potions classes in a row a week not worth having, but now it just provided another opportunity to try and steal the flask of Polyjuice.

Snape was patrolling the room, peering into the cauldrons of Silencing Solution and making harsh remarks about most of them. When Snape passed to the left of Ron, he gave his cauldron a nudge to the side; it fell over, splattering the Silencing Solution in Snape's direction. Snape jumped out of the way, showing excellent reflexes, and the majority of the contents went across the aisle and hit Seamus's trainers which started to smoke ominously. While Snape impatiently fixed the Irish boy's shoes, Hermione darted out of her seat and made a beeline for the office. Under the cover of Snape snarling at Ron and assigning a detention, Harry saw flash of brown hair dash out of sight; Hermione reappeared a moment later.

"Now I've got detention," Ron grumbled as they walked away from Potions.

"Only for one day," Harry reminded him. "And now all we need is to get some Slytherins' hairs, then we're set."

"I stole from a teacher," Hermione said in a small voice. "We'll be in _so _much trouble if he finds out."

"He can't have any proof," Harry said bracingly. "After all, it's not like he saw you steal it."

"Hey — where are we going?" Ron asked as Hermione led them through an invisible door. "This isn't the way back to the common room."

"Well, we obviously can't change our appearances there. I mean, it would be a dead giveaway that we stole the potion," Hermione responded. "So I thought there might be another place we could go. Somewhere no one _ever_ comes in. Let's see if we can find Ginny first, though."

But try as the might, Harry, Ron and Hermione could not find Ginny anywhere.

"Let's just go to the place, then," Hermione suggested, and she walked away. Harry glanced at Ron, and then set off to follow her.

"Where're we going, anyway?" Harry asked.

"A bathroom," Hermione stated. "A ghost by the name of Moaning Myrtle lives there, and she's always throwing these horrible tantrums, and flooding the place. As I said, nobody ever goes in there. We're almost — ouch!"

Hermione had walked straight into Ginny, who was crawling around on the floor and frantically searching for something, and had banged her shin on Ginny's book bag, which was lying on the floor. Now that Harry As Ginny looked up in surprise, Harry noticed that she was not looking well at all. Her face was as pale as Draco Malfoy's, and she looked like she hadn't slept for weeks.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, standing up. "I'm just looking around — my bag broke at the seams and some things fell out, and I didn't notice until a bit ago, and now they're lost."

"Have you tried retracing your steps?" Hermione suggested.

"That's what I'm doing now," Ginny said, with a note of fear in her tired voice. "I've looked everywhere and everywhere I've been, but I can't find it — I mean, my things."

"They'll turn up," Harry said confidently. "We just got the potion, and Hermione's going to show us where to, well, take it. We were looking all over for you; how about you come with us, and then we can look after that?"

Ginny seemed to be mentally debating the offer, and then nodded weakly.

* * *

The ghost named Moaning Myrtle was not present when Hermione introduced them to the bathroom, but it was obvious she had been there recently. The floor was coated in a thin layer of water, no doubt from a flooded sink or toilet, and the sinks were chipped from disrepair.

"Good a place as any," Harry said with a shrug. "Now let's get out of here before someone sees us. Ginny, where have you looked for your things?"

"I — I'll look for myself," Ginny said, looking positively terrified at the thought of someone else helping her. Before Harry had the time to tell her that was okay by him, she took off, cradling her broken book bag so that the contents would not pour out from the hole in its side.

Harry hadn't walked half a minute before he realized that he had just strode right past something. He slowed down; Ron and Hermione continued on, immersed in an argument about Ron's detention.

Letting Ron and Hermione carry on, Harry turned around so he could see more plainly what he had passed. He had nearly treaded on a few broken bottles of ink, a single unbroken bottle, a few quills — and Ginny's diary, which was propped open by the angle at which it had fallen. This must have been what Ginny was looking for.

Harry started to avert his eyes from the open pages, before he realized that they were blank; there was nothing written on them. As he put his hands on the diary to close it, words suddenly appeared on the open pages.

"_Hello, Harry Potter._"

-

_A/N: I'm guessing the next chapter will not take as long to post as some of the others, but given the fact that it has the potential to be a longer one there's no promise there.  
As always, reviews are welcomed._


	8. Conflicted

**Just You and Me**

_  
A/N: Sorry for the wait. This was due both to circumstances out of my control and the fact that I was writing too long a chapter (it would have been about 1/3 the length of the story so far). So the bad news is that it took this much time, and the good news is that the next chapter will take a lot less work._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

**Chapter Eight: Conflicted**

Harry stared at the words that had just appeared on the left page of Ginny's diary.

"_Hello, Harry Potter._"

He was sure that they hadn't been there when he had put his hands on the diary to close it. As he watched in amazement, the words faded away, leaving the page as blank as it had been before he had touched it.

Was that something Ginny had just written? Perhaps in some kind of invisible ink?

But why would she write 'Hello, Harry Potter'? No, she hadn't written that. And the diary was now pristine; there was not a drop of ink to be found on the white pages despite the fact that it ought to be covered in ink.

Harry was suddenly struck with an idea of how to communicate back, but he really didn't want to write in Ginny's very private diary. But on the other hand, it _had_ started the conversation, and it might be rude not to respond.

Deciding to test his theory, he took one of the quills that were scattered around and dipped the tip in a puddle of ink. Very carefully, he made a slight dab on the corner of a page: it lingered for a moment, and then gradually disappeared.

All reservations forgotten in his excitement, he dipped the quill in the unbroken bottle of ink and wrote, "How did you know my name was Harry Potter?"

Harry's words slowly vanished, and were replaced with a different set of words.

"_I know a lot of things, Harry Potter. I should introduce myself. My name is Tom Riddle. This is my diary._"

"What?" Harry wrote quickly. "I thought this was Ginny Weasley's diary."

"_It is that too_," Riddle replied. "_Ginevra has been using this as her diary, yet it was originally mine. I recorded my memories in this diary, in a more lasting medium than ink. There are things in here that some people would want to be never known, to be left as a legend._"

Harry's heartbeat quickened. 'To be left as a legend.' Was Riddle talking about the Chamber of Secrets? Was this how Ginny knew about it being opened before?

"Are you talking about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"_Indeed. I have heard from Ginevra that it has been opened again._"

"Again," Harry wrote. "Do you know about the last time it was opened?"

"_Oh, yes. I was there. I saw the body of a girl that the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets killed. I caught the culprit. I watched as he was expelled, given a slap on the wrist, and was allowed to stay out of prison, to live on the grounds of Hogwarts. I watched as they never sought to find the monster after the attacks stopped, simply hoping that it would never attack again. I heard the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, tell me never to divulge to anyone what had actually happened._"

Harry almost upset the ink bottle in his haste to reply. "It's happening again. Whoever it was is opening it again, and the monster's attacking people. Who was it?"

"_I can do better than just telling you who it was. I can show you my memory of when I caught him. Would you like to see? I haven't shown this to anyone else._"

Harry glanced around; there was no one in the corridor.

"OK."

* * *

Ginny was sitting on a chair in the empty Gryffindor common room (everyone else was eating dinner), slouched forward, her hands supporting her head. She felt like she might cry.

She had looked _everywhere_, and she couldn't find a trace of Tom's diary. Her biggest fear was not losing her friend and confidant, but what might happen if someone else found it. Would Tom talk to them? Surly he would, if they figured out how to talk to him, but would he divulge her secrets? All year she had been pouring her secrets into it: how she felt about Harry, how upset she secretly was when Draco Malfoy cursed her, how she only had a few friends, and how Fred and George would occasionally tease her, how Ron treated her like a baby…but most of all she was afraid of someone finding out the most recent things she had been writing about. Her suspicions.

She heard the Fat Lady's portrait swing open, and looked up to see Harry walking into the room; with a jolt she noticed he was carrying a very familiar book under his arm. She leapt to her feet.

Harry just stood there, looking very uncomfortable. "Hi," he said awkwardly. "I found your diary."

Ginny took in Harry's expression, which seemed guilty. Her shoulders sagged. "You wrote in it, didn't you?" Ginny said in a small voice, holding back the tears.

Harry looked away from Ginny. "I was picking it up to close it, but then some words appeared saying, 'Hello, Harry Potter'; it looked like it had absorbed the ink that spilled all over or something. I got too curious, I tried writing back, and someone named Tom Riddle wrote —"

Ginny was feeling too betrayed and scared to wonder why Tom had started the conversation, when he had never done that before. She _never _would have thought that Harry would have written in the diary. If there was _anyone_ who would have picked it up and just returned it, she would have thought it would have been Harry. Apparently she was wrong. But what had Tom told him?

"What did he tell you?" Ginny asked in a shaky voice.

"Nothing personal," Harry said. "But I found out something important. He showed me who's been behind the attacks —"

Ginny didn't wait for Harry to complete his sentence; she ran for it. She dashed as fast as she could, up the stairs and into the girls' dormitory, leaving both Harry and the diary behind.

That was it. Ginny hadn't been sure that she was behind the attacks, and Tom had been assuring her that she wasn't, but apparently he had been lying to her. Now Ginny was going to get expelled from Hogwarts, her wand snapped into pieces, and sent back home to live like a Muggle for the rest of her life — if she wasn't tossed into Azkaban.

This time she didn't bother to hold back her tears.

* * *

Harry stood in the same spot where he had been when Ginny left him, diary still tucked under his arm, feeling horrible.

_Why_ had he felt the need to write in Ginny's private diary?

Okay, sure, it had started their conversation, and he had learned several very important things, some of which he couldn't quite believe. But as much as he felt bad about seeing that Hagrid had opened the Chamber of Secrets, he felt worse about the betrayed and stricken expression on Ginny's face. Not only had he violated her privacy (even though he learned nothing about her), he had also caused her great distress by mentioning something about the attacks.

Harry sat down in the still warm chair which Ginny had occupied only moments ago, and set the diary on a stand next to the chair. Riddle had wanted to talk more to Harry after showing him the memory in which Hagrid and a monster of some sort had been featured, but Harry had been in a bit of shock and had closed it.

Now what? Ginny probably hated him now, and he really couldn't think of a way to make up for what he had done.

Harry was still sitting in the chair when the rest of the Gryffindors started to filter into the common room, having finished dinner. Harry wasn't remotely hungry despite the fact that he hadn't eaten since lunch.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up at the sound of a female voice, hoping see Ginny, but for the first time in his life he was disappointed to see Hermione. Ron was nowhere to be seen, presumably still eating.

"Are you okay?"

"Not really," Harry said with a sigh. He checked to make sure that nobody could hear him. "I think I just made Ginny so mad she'll never want to have anything to do with me again."

Hermione looked shocked. "Oh, you can't have done anything _that_ bad."

Harry regaled her with what had happened since he had found the diary: the mysterious writing, the memory of Hagrid and a monster, trying to return the diary to Ginny, and her flight away from him.

"It's not as bad as you think," Hermione said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really," Hermione repeated. "First off, did you actually hear Hagrid admit that he opened the Chamber in that memory? Or did you see him open the Chamber?"

"No," Harry responded, "but it does explain why he was expelled from Hogwarts. Hagrid —"

"— Most likely did not open the Chamber of Secrets last time," Hermione said. "Yes, the timing works, but there were plenty of other people who went to Hogwarts at that time; there were probably hundreds of other students who could have done it. I mean, you said you saw something with lots of legs, but it wasn't gigantic. Remember those marks on the shield that Justin had? Do you think it could have done that? And do you honestly think _Hagrid_ could be the Heir of Slytherin? He was placed in Gryffindor."

The part about being placed in Gryffindor didn't matter, in Harry's opinion, considering that he was in Gryffindor even though the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin. But Hermione's other points had merit.

"Okay, so suppose Hagrid was innocent. But," Harry looked up at Hermione, "what do I do about Ginny?"

"I'll talk to her," Hermione said immediately. "You didn't mean any harm by it, and you obviously feel horrible about it."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, and Hermione marched up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

* * *

When Ginny heard the _clunk_ of someone coming into the dormitories, she wondered who it would be. Perhaps Dumbledore or McGonagall, here to tell her that she had been expelled? Someone from the Ministry of Magic, there to cart her off to Azkaban?

As it turned out, her fears were unjustified, for it was just Hermione, who sat down on a bed opposite from Ginny.

"Does Dumbledore know yet?" Ginny asked, not meeting Hermione's eyes.

Hermione started to tap one foot softly. "I'm not sure there's a whole lot to tell — to Dumbledore, anyway. Your mum and dad might not be too happy with you carrying around a book that can think for itself, but from what little I've heard it doesn't seem like a Dark object."

Ginny finally raised her head so she could see Hermione. "What do you mean there's not a lot to tell to Dumbledore? What about who's been causing the attacks?"

"I don't think he actually caused the attacks the first time, so it wouldn't make sense for him to have opened it this time; that's why I don't think there's a reason to go to Dumbledore."

Ginny blinked. "He? Who are you talking about?"

Hermione looked at Ginny curiously. "Hagrid. Who did you think I was talking about?"

"Hagrid," Ginny said quickly. "Just got confused for a moment."

Ginny suddenly felt like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted from her chest. Tom _hadn't_ told Harry that she was behind the attacks, he had told him that Hagrid was behind them. Why Hagrid, Ginny had no idea, but she didn't care. Maybe she wasn't causing all this after all.

Hermione looked pleased with herself. As the older girl stood up and turned to leave, she said, "Oh, and please don't feel too bad about what Harry did. He really feels sorry, he's beating himself up about it. Metaphorically, of course."

As Hermione left the room, Ginny smiled. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay after all.

When Ginny made it back down to the common room, a fair amount of people were occupying it, but not so much that privacy was negated. She spotted Harry, still sitting in the same chair she had sat on, Tom's diary next to him.

"Hi," Ginny said tentatively.

Harry looked around until his gaze rested on her, and then stood up.

"Ginny, I'm sorry —" he began, but she cut him off.

"It's okay. I just…overreacted a little."

"It still was a bad thing to do," Harry said.

"We can make it up by being friends again."

Ginny held out her hand, and Harry shook it.

"You didn't, ah, open it again, did you?" Ginny asked, afraid he might have seen the 'Ginny Weasley loves Harry Potter' she had written on the inside of the front cover in everlasting ink, since the diary didn't seem to absorb ink not on the pages.

Harry shook his head. "No."

Ginny sat down in a chair next to Harry, and she felt unusually happy…like everything was going to turn out alright.

* * *

Harry noticed that Ginny was decidedly more cheerful over the next few days. Although she was looking far more worn out than she ought to be, she was in good spirits — until breakfast, two days before students were to leave or stay for the holidays.

"I don't see why you had to send an owl to mum asking if you could stay," Ron said to Ginny from across the table.

"I already told you," she said, "I told mum that I was coming home for the holidays, so she'd be expecting me. I had to ask — oh, there he is."

Harry looked up from his breakfast. Ginny had spotted Errol, the Weasley family owl, flying above the tables, wobbling in flight.

"Look out!" Ron warned, and he took cover, followed immediately by Ginny. Harry glanced at Hermione, and then ducked down under the table. Ron was counting down from ten under his breath, and when he reached zero there was a resounding crash. Harry cautiously stood up; Errol had crash-landed in the middle of all their breakfasts.

"Is he dead?" Hermione asked, tentatively poking the bird with her index finger. "No, wait, he's alive."

"'Course he is," Ron said as though owls crashed into his breakfast on a daily basis. "He always does that. Never died yet."

Ginny reached down and snatched up a slip of parchment that had been tied to Errol's leg; it was addressed to her. As Ginny read it her expression darkened, and when she finished it she crumpled it in anger and shoved it in a pocket.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm not allowed to stay for the holidays," Ginny said angrily.

"What?" Harry said. "Why?"

"'We don't want you to be in a dangerous environment a second more than you have to be,'" Ginny quoted, sounding unnervingly like Mrs. Weasley. "Of course, _Ron_'s allowed to stay. But not me."

"So do we forget the plan?" Harry asked, but Ginny shook her head.

"I'm going to write home again, see if I can change mum's mind. But even if I have to go home, I guess you three can just go on without me."

Ginny commandeered Hedwig for her second letter home; she had written a lengthy letter full of alternating promises to be good and safe, and with a fair amount of begging involved.

Hedwig returned to the school the next morning, carrying Mrs. Weasley's return letter. Ginny retrieved it from Hedwig, patted the bird on the head, opened it, and tossed it back down on the table, looking very cross. It was lying open across the table, and Harry could clearly see the two word reply: "No."

* * *

Ginny had left on the Hogwarts Express in a fairly bad mood, but with a request for Harry to punch Draco after they interrogated him. Hermione had decided that they would take the potion on Christmas night, and was making final preparations, for they lacked the one ingredient that even a pre-brewed Polyjuice Potion needed: hairs.

Harry went to bed on Christmas Eve, head full of thoughts on the Polyjuice Potion that morphed into a nightmare where he was wondering around the school, stuck half-way between himself and a faceless Slytherin student. Then it went back to that dream where he was running down that corridor —

"Wake up! Presents!"

Someone was shouting in Harry's ear. He reluctantly opened an eye, and saw a blurry shape waving what appeared to be a hand in front of his face. He groggily reached for his glasses and put them on, and Ron came into focus.

"Merry Christmas," Ron said. "Nice of you to join us."

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and started to get out of bed. "You didn't have to yell that loud. And what d'you mean, 'us'?"

"Hermione's up," Ron informed Harry as he was getting dressed. "Came up here and woke me up. She's not supposed to be up here, you know. She tried to wake you up, but you were sound asleep."

"I was dreaming," Harry said. "Why'd she come up here?"

"Apparently she worked out the last part of the plan," Ron said with a shrug. "Anyway, come on. Presents!"

Now fully dressed, Harry followed Ron down to the common room, occupied solely by Hermione.

It was a great start to the morning. Harry swapped presents with Ron and Hermione, and also received presents from other people: treacle fudge from Hagrid, a sweater and a plum cake from Mrs. Weasley, a pair of old socks from the Dursleys, and an affectionate nibble from Hedwig.

Harry was in the process of pulling his sweater on and standing up when Hermione pointed at the pile of shredded wrapping paper.

"You've got another one, Harry."

It was then that he saw that she was pointing not at the pile of discarded wrapping, but at a small box that had been missed in the excitement.

Harry extracted it from the pile and saw that it was wrapped in plain, red paper. The recipient and sender were written neatly on the top of the box:

_To Harry, from Ginny_

Harry felt a large stab of guilt. He had remembered to get a present for Ron, remembered to get a present for Hermione, but had completely forgotten in terms of Ginny.

Harry slowly tore off the wrapping paper; there was a card attached to the box. Harry opened it, and saw more of Ginny's neat handwriting.

_Dear Harry,  
I don't know if you have anything like this, and I am sorry if you do. My brother Charlie had this for a while and then gave it to me, and I thought it would remind you of playing Quidditch, even though you can't play now because of the messed-up atmospheric charm.  
This is both a Christmas Present and a thank-you for being such a really good friend.  
Ginny _

Curious, Harry opened to box. Inside was a one and a half-foot long model Quidditch pitch. There was a miniscule figure on a broom hovering at each end, guarding the hoops, and two whole teams of tiny players zoomed around, weaving around each other. The set had certainly been around for a while; there were cracks on some of the goal hoops, and at least one player tended to bounce into the stands. Still, it was amazing. Harry looked questioningly at Ron.

"Do you know what this is? I've never seen anything like it."

"Mum and dad gave it to my brother Charlie when he made Quidditch captain," Ron answered. "It, uh, cost a little bit, but they, well, were really proud. He gave it to Ginny a while back; she was always sneaking to his room to watch it."

Harry looked back at Ginny's card again, feeling even guiltier when he reached the part about being a 'really good friend'. He had nothing for her, and she had given him something that sounded like it was one of her more prized possessions.

"It's brilliant," Harry said, watching what looked like a seeker dive down, chasing a Snitch that either did not exist or was too small for the eye to see.

And then Harry knew what he could do for a present. It would rely on the weather turning nice, but with the time for Quidditch games getting smaller, he had a feeling that the staff would be working on it.

Hermione cleared her throat. "After the feast, I think we should get the hairs you two need."

"What about you?" Harry said. "Don't you need one?"

"Already got one," Hermione said proudly. "Pansy Parkinson. Got it from her a week ago. We can just tell Malfoy that I — Pansy — changed her mind about going home for the holidays. It should fool him for an hour."

"Who are we?"

"Crabbe and Goyle," Hermione replied. "I've just got to get a few pastries from dinner to fill with a Sleeping Draught, and then we can knock them out and grab their hairs."

Harry was slightly taken aback at Hermione's sudden disregard for the rules, but decided to go along with it.

"Do you have the feeling we're missing something?" she said suddenly.

"Like what?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. Just that we're overlooking something important."

Ron shrugged, but Harry felt it too. There was a feeling of something forgotten, something important.

Harry now had a bad feeling about their upcoming plan. Something wasn't quite right.

* * *

Christmas day went by quickly, and the feast seemed to be upon them only a handful of hours after opening presents in the common room.

The feast was just as grand as it had been the year before, in Harry's opinion. Everyone, including the Headmaster, was dining at a single table that was situated in the middle of the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore seemed delighted to exchange his wizard's hat for one shaped like a fish, while a Professor who Harry did not recognize was talking animatedly to Madam Hooch, who seemed only slightly interested. It was only after having consumed his share of food did he notice a conspicuous absence from the feast; Professors Lockhart, Flitwick and Snape were not there.

"Professor," Harry said to McGonagall, who was near him. "Where did Professor Flitwick go? And Lockhart and Snape?"

"Fixing the weather," McGonagall said with a hiccup; she had evidentially had a little too much of the wine. "The Headmaster thought it would be a nice holiday present if everyone could spend some time outside, and do the Quidditch matches this year. Madam Hooch thinks there's time if we do them nearly back-to-back…"

McGonagall trailed off.

"But what are Snape and Lockhart doing?" Harry asked. He could understand why the Charms expert would be working on the situation, but not the Potions Master and definitely not Lockhart.

"Gilderoy caused all this," McGonagall said, sweeping her hand around for emphasis and knocking over her glass. "He went into some fooling around and did something. The Headmaster only just found out that it was he who did it, and now they're fixing it. Severus is there to keep an eye on him."

McGonagall looked as though she might fall asleep. At first Harry had thought that McGonagall had simply overindulged in the drinks, but on a second glance the Transfiguration Professor looked weary, not sleepy. Not as drained as Ginny had been looking, but tired nonetheless. Perhaps catching the culprit behind the attacks — or having not caught the culprit — was taking a toll on the staff.

* * *

Two hours later Harry, Ron and Hermione were gathered in bathroom occupied by Moaning Myrtle. Crabbe and Goyle had been knocked out without a hitch, and there were three small vials of Polyjuice Potion that were now ready for consumption.

"Which one is Crabbe's, and which one is Goyle's?" Ron asked. They had gotten the two mixed up when the hairs had been added.

"Only one way to find out," Hermione answered. "You two won't fit in the clothes you're wearing now, so you two should take the potion in stalls."

Harry slipped into the nearest stall. "Ready?"

"Ready," Ron and Hermione said together. Harry pinched his nose and swallowed the ugly-looking potion whole.

The fact that it tasted like overcooked cabbage was the least of Harry's grievances at the moment. A burning sensation was spreading from his stomach outward, and his body was starting to bulge outward. He quickly kicked off his shoes, but that was all he managed to do before he fell down, and he could feel his hair growing in, and he knew his scar must be vanishing —

And then it all stopped. Harry put a hand on his head and realized that the hand was much larger than his hand usually was. In fact, his whole body was different. He looked at the shiny side of the stall, and then remembered to take his glasses off. When he took them off, he saw Goyle's reflection looking back at him.

"This is mental," Crabbe said from the stall to his right. It took Harry a moment to remember that it was actually Ron who was talking.

"Yeah," Harry said, and heard Goyle talking.

With great effort Harry managed to pull off his robes, and pull on a set of robes that fit his new stature. He felt a pain in his left wrist, and realized that his watch was many times too small. He fumbled to adjust it with his large fingers. He finally got it right, and then pushed open the door to the stall. Hermione, in the guise of Pansy Parkinson, had already emerged, and Ron came out a second later, looking like Crabbe.

"We have to hurry," Hermione said anxiously, and Harry thought he could hear in Pansy's voice a trace of Hermione, perhaps in the tone. "We don't know where the Slytherin common room is, and there won't be very many people around for us to follow in. And we only have an hour…"

They went down a marble staircase, hoping to find a Slytherin and follow the student to the common room, but there was no one there.

"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," Ron said, indicating the entrance to the dungeons. They had only taken a few steps when a girl walked out of the entrance. Ron started to walk up to her.

"Excuse me — ow!"

Hermione had stamped on Ron's foot. The girl looked strangely at Ron, and then walked away.

"What'd you do that for?" Ron demanded.

"That was a _Ravenclaw_ prefect. And don't be so polite; Crabbe's an imbecile who can't pronounce 'Excuse me'."

"Fine, fine," Ron grumbled.

They entered the labyrinthine passages, utterly lost. Thirty minutes after taking the potion, they were still lost and running out of time.

"Wait — look!" Hermione said a few minutes later.

Harry squinted into the darkness. "Is that Malfoy?"

"There you two are," Draco said as he strode into view. He looked satisfied at finding them, but then quite taken aback when he spotted Hermione. "I thought you were gone for the holidays, Pansy."

"Oh, I would rather be at Hogwarts if that was where _you_ were," Hermione simpered, doing a disturbing but accurate impression of Pansy's admiration for Draco; Draco shifted slightly and looked uncomfortable.

"Right. Well, did you two do it?"

He was speaking to Harry and Ron now, who had no idea what he was talking about.

"Er —"

"Maybe we should discuss this in the common room," Hermione suggested. Draco eyed her strangely, and then started walking back the way he had come. He stopped by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall and said, "Pure-blood."

Hermione jumped back as a concealed door suddenly opened in the wall. Draco marched through it, and the three Gryffindors followed him into the Slytherin common room. There was a slight green glow to the place, due to greenish lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling.

"Sit," Draco ordered, pointing Harry and Ron to a pair of chairs. It looked like Hermione, or Pansy, was not supposed to be part of this discussion, so she sat down in a chair close enough that she could hear what was going on, but far enough away that it looked like she was not eavesdropping.

"So, did you two do it?" Draco demanded.

"Do what?" Harry asked, sounding as clueless as Goyle without trying to.

"Do what — I told you _three times_ today," Draco said. "Did — you —send — the — letter?"

"Oh. Yeah," Harry said, wondering if it was true. Draco's look of frustration vanished.

"Good," he said with relish. "She might have thought that I've forgotten, but I haven't. She'll be sorry she messed with a _Malfoy_."

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Who?" Draco repeated. "Who have I been talking about this whole time?"

Fortunately this level of stupidity seemed normal for Crabbe, as it didn't seem to raise any suspicions on Draco's part. "Don't remember," Harry said.

"Not you too," Draco said in dismay. "The Weasley girl, remember? I told you this morning."

"Right," Harry said, trying to make it sound as if it had just slipped his mind.

"My father has always told me about a curse that _really_ makes people hurt," Draco said with a grin. "Maybe he'll send instructions on how to use it on her; that slug trick was nice, but it cleared up in — what's wrong with you two?"

Harry had unconsciously clenched his hands into fists, as had Ron. Behind Draco's head he caught a glimpse of Pansy Parkinson shaking her head furiously, and it was a few seconds before he realized that it was Hermione who was silently pleading with him not to do anything stupid. Harry relaxed his hands.

"Stomachache," Harry grumbled.

"Not surprising considering how much you two eat," Draco said contemptuously.

Harry glanced at his watch, and was startled to realize that they were down to less than ten minutes. They had to do this fast.

"So who's the Heir of Slytherin's next target?" Harry said, going out on a limb.

"I've already told you, I don't even know who he is," Draco snapped. "_Father_ knows, but he won't tell. It's not Potter, at any rate, even though that's what the school thinks. How could he be?"

"But you must have some idea?" Harry said desperately.

"How thick can you get, Goyle?" Draco snarled. "_All_ I know is that a Mudblood died last time. And the person who opened it was shipped off to Azkaban — "

"Azkaban?" Harry asked.

"Azkaban_ — the wizard prison_," Draco said in frustration. "Are you sure you didn't get held back first year? You sound almost as stupid as a Mudblood."

"Muggle-borns aren't stupid," Harry said defensively, quite forgetting who he was and what he was doing. "Hermione Granger —"

"She knows how to read a book," Draco conceded. "And how to suck up to teachers — _what_ is wrong with you?"

Draco was obviously getting very suspicious, and Harry was glad that Ron had the sense to draw his attention away.

"You haven't found out anything else?" Ron asked.

Draco's expression softened. "I'm working on it. Father said not to get in his way…but he didn't say I couldn't find out what was going on. You know I've been looking in the library for something that can Petrify. I feel like Granger," he added with a shudder. "I was looking in row eighty," he continued, "but I might have found something in thirty-four —"

Hermione gasped, but Draco was too intent on his storytelling to do anything but spare a glance at her. "I must say, it's not easy to find a time when Granger's not in the library, I can barely stand to even be in a class with that Mudblood, let alone —"

"_Petrificus Totalus_," Hermione whispered, waving her wand at the back of Draco's head. Draco stiffened and then fell down, lying on his back in front of the chairs Harry and Ron were sitting on. Harry looked back at Hermione, who was running towards them, stowing her wand. Harry was going to berate her for losing her temper when she had warned Harry not to lose his own; they were supposed to be Slytherins. However, when she got closer he saw that she did not look exactly like Pansy anymore. Her hair was growing, and becoming more brown and bushy. Harry then noticed that his hands were starting to get smaller; Ron's hair was turning red.

"Let's go," Hermione hissed low enough that Draco wouldn't be able to hear, her voice still sounding like Pansy's. They sprinted out of the concealed door (Harry made sure to trod on Draco's fingers), and did not stop running until they had reached Myrtle's bathroom. Harry and Ron ran in first, and Hermione followed, slamming the door behind her. They all stood there for a second, Harry and Ron in robes that didn't fit, breathing hard.

"Nice thinking, Hermione," Harry said finally. "D'you think he'll realize what happened?"

"Maybe," Hermione said nervously. "Snape _must_ know that someone stole Polyjuice Potion, and when they find Crabbe and Goyle knocked out Malfoy might realize that the people he talked to weren't actually Crabbe and Goyle…and Parkinson is actually away for the holidays. Malfoy will go to Snape —"

"They still can't prove it was us," Ron said bracingly. "We didn't really learn much though, did we? All we learned was that Malfoy's not the Heir."

"No," Hermione said. "We did learn more. I know why he's been in the library. He's been in the Restricted Section —"

"Big surprise," Ron muttered.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, talking over Ron, "He stopped going there, and went to the dangerous magical creatures and beasts section. Oh come on, _one _of you two have to have been there!"

_"You're_ the bookworm, Hermione," Ron reminded, and Hermione glared at him. Sensing an impending row, Harry quickly threw himself back into the conversation.

"So what did he learn?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said, her excitement dimming. "He probably hasn't been checking out any books; that would be revealing. So if we can get to the library and start looking —"

"But Snape will be waiting!" Harry exclaimed. "If we're looking in the places Malfoy was talking about, that would be _proof_ we were using the Polyjuice."

"We could use your invisibility cloak," Ron suggested, but Harry shook his head.

"I've got a nasty feeling he knows about it. It was my dad's cloak, and maybe he saw it when they were at school together…"

Harry trailed off, realizing that there were so many things about his father that he didn't know, things that made Snape seem omniscient when they engaged in a confrontation about the late James Potter. Who could he ask about his father? Surly his father had friends. Maybe he could ask around, see who they were —

"Harry!"

Harry was jerked back to reality by Ron's voice. He looked around; both Ron and Hermione were staring at him.

"You fine, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry lied.

"Any ideas?" Ron said hopefully, walking into his stall so he could change back into his regular clothes. Harry decided to do the same, desiring his robes — and glasses, for it would be nice to see clearly again.

"I think —" Harry said, putting his glasses on and tightening his watch, "that we should wait for Ginny to get back."

The sound of Ron changing stopped. "What?"

Harry also stopped changing. He hadn't quite meant to say that. On one hand, their numbers would be increased to four, and Ginny could be helpful at distracting whoever might waiting to see if Hermione went to the section Draco had mentioned in the library. But he then realized that he just wanted Ginny included; her wish was to be included, and that somehow bled over into his own wishes.

He thought of what Hermione had insinuated after he had secretly bought Ginny new robes, and what she had said in the hall to him after Ron had revealed Ginny's secret crush on him. Hermione knew something he did not, and he needed to find out what it was.

As he was thinking, Hermione answered Ron's question for Harry, something for which he was quite grateful. "We could use another brain," she said. "Another pair of eyes."

Ron grunted his grudging agreement and, having chanced his robes back to normal, walked out of the bathroom and presumably back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione turned to follow.

"Hermione!" Harry burst out. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him.

"What?"

"I need your help," Harry said, feeling embarrassed. "It's something I can only ask a friend, and Ron wouldn't be a good choice."

"So I'm your last choice. Lovely." Hermione killed the sarcasm in her sentence with a smile. "So…does this have anything to do with Ginny?

"Maybe," Harry said evasively, taken aback at Hermione's skill to read people. "Okay, yes," he added when she raised an eyebrow.

"And it's personal, which is why we're talking about it in an abandoned girls' bathroom."

Harry was afraid that he was blushing.

"Haven't you figured out why you feel different with her?" Hermione said with a tone of disbelief. "If she wants something, you cave in. You looked like the world had ended when she got upset with you. And if we hadn't stopped you, Malfoy would have been cursed by you after he hit her with that hex on the Quidditch pitch."

"Why?" Harry asked helplessly.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione said with a tone of superiority. When Harry shook his head, she gave a sigh of exasperation. "Oh, come _on_ Harry, you know what it is, you just don't want to admit it. She has a crush on you, remember? And don't shake your head like that, because she still does."

"But —" Harry started to say, but Hermione cut him off.

"You bought robes for her at Madam Malkin's —don't deny it, you did — when you never bought anything for Ron. I heard Ron say that you called her pretty once; he didn't think much of it, but she _is_ a pretty girl. You jumped to the conclusion that I thought you fancied her when I was using you as an example. You've stuck up for her, you've made her your best friend, even more than Ron or me, when you could have left her on her own with the other first-years. Come on, you _know_ what you feel about her."

Harry was now seriously starting to regret this conversation. Harry had a sinking feeling he knew what Hermione was talking about, but now that they had started to talk he was wishing they never had.

Harry looked at his watch, and saw that there was over an hour before he had to be in the dormitories; he would have to make up an excuse.

"You know," Harry said, "I really think I'll be going to bed on the early side tonight. The potion made me sleepy. Night."

Harry carefully modulated his pace so that it would not look as though he was running away from the discussion, although Hermione's raised eyebrow left no doubt in Harry's mind that she knew exactly why he was abandoning the conversation.

He made it to the common room and up to his bed, where he lay down and pretended to be asleep until Ron, the only other person in their room who was staying for the holidays, flopped down and started snoring. During the few hours that passed between entering the dormitory and falling asleep, a few of the things Hermione said floated through his head.

"_Isn't it obvious_?"

"_She _is _a pretty girl_."

"_Isn't it obvious_?"

No, it wasn't obvious, Harry thought, unless you had the super-observation powers of Hermione. But now he knew what his friend was implying.

…It couldn't be true.

Could it?

-

_A/N: Things will start happening come next chapter. Promise. And I would like to thank the anonymous reviewer c. for pointing out a few embarrassing mistakes.  
_


	9. The Truth — at a Price

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: Very, very sort for the long wait. There were finals, and then I had a minor accident and hurt myself. I then had to use the time I spend to work on this story catching up on schoolwork.  
And then I forgot completely, which I have no excuse for. Hopefully this won't happen again.  
To make up for that, this is (in my opinion) a more exciting chapter, and things are starting to pick up pace. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

**Chapter Nine: The Truth ****—**** at a Price**

There were no more attacks over break; this was possibly because the Heir had gone home for the holidays. Ron had thought that even a murdering, Petrifying monster could use a break or two, while Harry thought that the monster in the chamber just must not have had a chance to be called to do its bidding, which was fine with him. What was _not_ fine was that their list of suspects had just increased to most of the school, now that they knew Draco wasn't involved.

Their breakthrough of sorts occurred when Ginny returned to Hogwarts. Harry waited outside Professor McGonagall's office, where he had been told students were to arrive. He waited and waited as students he recognized and had never seen before walked out of the Transfiguration Professor's doors, but none of them were Ginny. Finally he saw a familiar small figure wearing freshly cleaned robes step out, her long red hair flowing behind her. Harry moved from his position against a wall and moved out to greet her.

"Harry!" Ginny said excitedly, and for a moment they hugged, during which Harry felt a combination of happy, nervous, and uncomfortable.

"Hi," Harry said weakly. "I, uh, thanks for the present. It's brilliant. I've never seen anything like it."

Ginny blushed a shade of red darker than any Harry had seen before.

"Thanks," Ginny said, unable to conceal the happiness in her voice. "I really hoped you'd like it."

"I've got something for you too," Harry added, "but I'll have to wait until the weather warms up."

"That's okay," Ginny assured him. "You don't have to do anything."

"You're my friend!" Harry protested.

They stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds as other students bustled by. As Harry looked at her face, he could definitely see something different about it. She looked like an enthusiastic young girl, but there was also a trace of something that made her look exhausted. Like she was never getting any sleep. He considered commenting on it, but something told him that it was her own business; if she wanted the reason for her exhaustion discussed, Harry had a feeling that she would bring it up herself.

"We did the Polyjuice Potion," Harry said finally. "It tasted nastier than the book said it would, but it worked, but we found out that Malfoy's not —"

"— The Heir of Slytherin," Ginny finished. When Harry looked at her in surprise, she added, "I figured out what we all were forgetting. You said that Dumbledore told you that Parseltongue was passed down through the Slytherin line. And V-Voldemort had it. And Dumbledore knew who had done it fifty years ago. So it was Voldemort who opened it last time, wasn't it?"

Harry gaped at her. "Of course! But he couldn't be in this school now, could he? So someone else might be doing it. Still, great job."

Ginny positively beamed with delight.

"Did you punch Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

"No," Harry said, "But Hermione Petrified him, and I stepped on his fingers. And speaking of Malfoy…"

* * *

While Hermione spent no more time than usual in the library, now looking for what Draco had been searching for instead of doing homework, it was not uncommon for her to frequent the library quite a lot, allowing plenty of time for her to browse row thirty-four. This was provided she ignored her school work, which was a great struggle for Hermione.

Snape would constantly flit through the library, occasionally strolling past Hermione to see where she was. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were on guard, however, and would warn Hermione to leave for another section.

By January 19th Hermione had not found a shred of relevant information. While there had been no attacks for a while, it seemed very much the calm before the storm.

Instead of abandoning his efforts to catch the Gryffindors in wrong doing after a period of no success, Snape's determination seemed to double. The professor seemed to very much want to incriminate Harry for an offense that was worthy of expulsion.

"He's out to get you," Ron observed over breakfast.

"Why?" Ginny said. "Why does he hate you so much?"

"Just didn't like my dad, I guess —"

"Harry!"

Oliver Wood was running down the Great Hall, knocking over a few Hufflepuff first-years in the process. "Did you hear?"

Without waiting for Harry to respond, Wood practically shouted, "Quidditch is back on!"

Harry had been excepting news of another attack, but this was a pleasant surprise. "Flitwick cleared up the weather, then?" Harry asked.

"Must've. We don't have much time, and Madam Hooch wants us to have a full schedule, so first game against Ravenclaw is five days from now."

Harry gaped at him. "Five days? But with the time we've been out of practice —"

Wood ran a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. But the good news is that Ravenclaw hasn't been able to do anything either, and we've got the best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen."

Harry suddenly found the floor very interesting. "We're practicing today, then?"

"No classes today, the weather's cleared up…" Wood was counting his reasons on a hand. "And we're playing Ravenclaw in _five days_!"

"Okay!" Harry said quickly.. "When're we practicing?"

"Ten minutes," Wood announced. "Grab your broom and get to the pitch."

Wood ran off before Harry had a chance to reply, no doubt to inform someone else. Harry glanced down at his half-eaten food, then scrambled to his feet and dashed for his dormitory, where he kept his Nimbus. Wood would not be happy if he was late.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry was late. By the time he had grabbed his broom and made his way to change, everyone was on the pitch. When Harry came out, dressed for the occasion, the team was flying around; Wood wasn't spending any time on speeches. As Harry mounted his broom, he noticed that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were sitting on the deserted stands. Hermione was watching nervously, Ron was determinedly munching on a piece of toast, and Ginny waved hello. Harry feebly returned the wave, and kicked off.

The team preformed better than they had any right to, considering the amount of time they had spent on the ground. There was an instance where Angelina dropped the Quaffle immediately after being thrown it, and Fred almost knocked George off his broom in a collision (though Harry suspected that there was no accident involved in that), but overall they were doing well enough that Harry felt confident about the upcoming match when he returned to the ground.

"Good job!" Wood said happily. "Practice tomorrow evening."

Harry winced, because that meant going out after a full day of school, with plenty of work to do. He was not about to argue with Wood, however.

Harry started to follow the team back to the changing rooms, but then stopped. Ron and Hermione had already left the stands, but Ginny was still in sight.

Dashing over that direction, Harry cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Ginny, wait!"

Ginny stopped in her tracks and turned around; Harry motioned for her to come down. She hopped down the stands, and walked over to Harry.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, I told you I had a Christmas present for you," Harry started. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I had to wait for the weather to clear up. Anyway, you can have a go on the Nimbus if you want."

Ginny's eyes widened.

"So I can really try the Nimbus?" Ginny asked excitedly. Harry nodded.

"It's about time," he said. "But I don't think you should go alone."

Ginny looked frustrated. "Harry —"

"I believe that you're a really good flyer," Harry said quickly, "but the Nimbus is a lot different than the Shooting Stars that you would have practiced on at flying lessons. It's a lot faster, and you've only been up in the air how many times? Seven? Eight?"

Ginny bit her lip. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Ron, Fred, George, Percy, my mum or my dad?"

Harry was taken aback. "Um, sure," he said, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"_Promise_?" Ginny repeated.

"Promise," Harry said firmly. "Now what's this big secret you don't want your family to know?"

"I've been breaking into the broom cupboard and taking out Fred and George's brooms for, um, about five years now," Ginny said in a very low voice.

Harry was impressed. "You've been stealing their brooms since you were _six_?"

Ginny smiled. "So can I ride the Nimbus now?"

Harry obligingly handed his broom over to Ginny. She hopped on, and took off.

Harry was amazed at the quality of her flying. Alright, she wasn't as good as he was, or some of the other Gryffindor team players, but she handled the broom as if it was a part of her, an extension of her body. Considering some of the dives and loops she pulled off, Harry thought it was probably a good thing that Ron was not watching. Harry was enthralled, and only wished he had a second broom so he could be up there, flying with her.

Ginny was flying nearly an hour before she returned, gently touching down next to Harry. Jumping off the Nimbus, she took it by the handle and handed it to Harry.

"Thanks," Ginny said happily.

"You could try out for the Quidditch team next year," Harry said honestly. "You'd make a great player."

Ginny looked both cheerful and embarrassed at the same time. "Thanks. I've always wanted to be a Chaser."

As far as Harry was concerned, finding out what was in the library or not, the week was looking up.

* * *

By the time of the Quidditch match, Harry's attention was half-focused on winning the match, and half on whatever book Hermione needed to find in the library.

"Do you have _any_ idea how many books there are in that section?" Hermione said irritably after another unfruitful day. Without waiting for Harry to respond, she said, "Over two thousand. Two_ thousand_. And I have to go book — by — book."

Frightened by the small twitch in her right eye, Harry decided to not keep asking her about the subject.

The turnout for the Quidditch match was even greater than usual. Usually most of the school came, but there were always a number of students who tended to be uninterested, or had things to do. This time there had not been a match the whole year, and the stands were packed full. Harry marched out onto the field with the rest of the team, and looked for his friends in the crowd; there were too many people to single out just three small figures. Some Seeker he was.

"Captains, shake hands," Madam Hooch said, and with a start Harry realized that the match was beginning. Wood and the Ravenclaw captain shook hands, and the match was on.

Harry launched himself into the air and headed up, gaining altitude so he would have a better view of everything, making it easier to spot the Snitch. Harry smiled as Lee Jordan's familiar commentary cut through the air. He always enjoyed Lee's biased commentary.

The score was swinging back and forth, Gryffindor ahead by ten points and then Ravenclaw twenty points up. It didn't seem like Gryffindor would be able to get enough points that they could still win if the Ravenclaw seeker caught the Snitch. This thought prompted Harry to check on the Ravenclaw Seeker's position: the Seeker was cruising on the opposite side of the pitch, not shadowing Harry.

Suddenly there was a flash of gold. The Snitch was hovering near the Ravenclaw goalposts, unnoticed by their Seeker. Harry put on a burst of acceleration, heading both towards the Ravenclaw side and up, making it look like he had spotted the Snitch high in the air. It worked; the Ravenclaw Seeker followed him up, away from the Snitch. Harry suddenly nosed down and headed full speed for the goal posts, flying under the opposing Seeker and right at his target. There was no one to stop him: the Keeper was above him, the Chasers and beaters were on Gryffindor's side of the field, and Harry could make adjustments if the Snitch moved.

Then suddenly Harry felt his broom go dead underneath him. He was still moving forward, still moving at the Snitch, but the broom was no longer acting as it should. He was rapidly losing altitude; he wouldn't make it to the Snitch. He was going to crash.

The Nimbus hit the ground nose-first, pitching Harry off of it and throwing him at the Ravenclaw goalposts. He flipped head-over-heels, and landed on his back, skidding all the way until his head hit one of the goalposts. Groaning and opening his eyes, Harry saw that the Snitch was incredibly no more than a foot above him, still hovering in place.

Did he need to be on a broom? Would it count if he caught it while landing on his back?

Harry quickly reached out with his right arm and grabbed the Snitch, holding it tight in his right hand. While no one seemed to know that he had the Snitch, people had noticed his crash. The game had apparently been halted, and a large group of people were running over to him. Harry could make out Madam Hooch, his team, and from the stands four figures were running over to him; Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and…Lockhart?

Harry tried to stand up, and that was when he realized that his leg was broken. He lay back down with a groan and looked down at his lower body. His left leg was twisted at an angle that was not normal. Oddly enough, it wasn't until that moment that the pain hit him.

Wood was the first to arrive. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Managing a smile, Harry held out his right fist and opened it, revealing the Snitch. Oliver whooped with joy, drawing a scandalized look from a concerned Madam Hooch.

"How do you feel, Potter?" she asked.

"I think I broke my leg," Harry groaned. "And my head hurts. My broom just went dead. It was like riding a Muggle broom."

Madam Hooch frowned, and was on the verge of replying when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ran over.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked her eyes wide with concern.

"Except for the leg. And the head. But —"

"Broken leg?" inquired a cheerful voice. Lockhart had arrived. "No problem Harry, none at all, not in the very least. I'll be more than happy to assist you."

"No," Harry said hurriedly. "I really think Madam Pom —"

"Nonsense!" Lockhart proclaimed, and pointes his wand at Harry's leg

* * *

"You have to use Skele-Gro?" Ron asked twenty minutes later, looking aghast. "Glad I'm not you."

"Tasted almost as bad as the Polyjuice," Harry said with a grimace.

"That's the least of it," Ron warned. "It'll get worse. I had to take it once, and —"

Ron closed his eyes and shuddered, relieving a bad memory.

"Did you hear anything about my broom?" Harry said.

"Madam Hooch said it was some kind of jinx. But the Nimbus is supposed to be good at resisting jinxes, isn't it? She thinks she'll be able to put it right, though."

"Good," Harry said with relief. His Nimbus was very important to him, and despite the fact that it was just a broomstick, he would be upset if it was not repairable.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team started to filter into the hospital wing, until it got to the point where Madam Pomfrey shooed them out, and soon Harry had had no visitors…save for a small girl who looked like she had been waiting for the crowd to clear.

"Hi Ginny!" Harry said happily. It was good to see her. "That, uh, wasn't my best performance ever."

"But you caught the Snitch!" Ginny said brightly. "And when you went up and then dived under —"

The two friends spent a few minutes discussing the game, Ginny filling Harry in on some of the events he had been too busy to notice, and soon they were describing elaborate maneuvers with their hands.

"There's a lot of good books about Quidditch tactics at the Burrow," Ginny said brightly. "Charlie didn't really have a use for them, so he left them behind. They've got moving pictures and everything…that's if you'd want to come home again."

Harry looked at her like she was crazy. "Of course I'd like to go back there!" he exclaimed. "It's brilliant, and better than the Dursleys. Well, that doesn't mean much, but still."

Ginny smiled, and slowly moved her hand towards Harry's, surely with the intent of taking his hand.

"Visiting time is up!"

Ginny jumped as Madam Pomfrey entered the room.

"Um, right," Ginny said in a low voice, blushing bright red. "I'll just, um, be going then."

And Ginny left, leaving Harry alone in his bed for what would prove to be an eventful night.

* * *

"Dear Tom."

Ginny had meant to write a longer message, but she took too long to ponder on her next words and Tom's response briefly appeared on the page.

"_Yes?_"

Ginny was in her bed, under the covers and reading by simple wand light. She carefully worded her reply.

"I had a good time in the past few days."

"_Really?_" came the response. "_I have noticed, Ginevra, that it has been a week since we have last talked._"

"Sorry. But can I tell you what happened?"

Ginny was excited fit to burst, and perhaps Tom could sense that.

"_By all means, my dear._"

"First Harry said he really liked my present for him, and I think he was telling the truth. And then we hugged, and then he took my flying on his Nimbus! He said I'd make a really good Quidditch player, and he won the Quidditch game today, but he got hurt. And we almost held hands in the hospital wing."

Ginny knew she was blabbering, but this was her diary. It was the one thing that she could tell all of her secrets, and didn't have to worry about it being mean to her, or ever hurting her.

"_That's lovely, my dear. I'm so happy for you. What did you say the date was?_"

Ginny thought for a moment.

"The 24th."

"_It's not long until Valentine's Day, then._"

Ginny's heart skipped a beat. Valentine's Day. She would have to think of something special…something unique…

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Ginny brought Harry breakfast the next morning, because he was forbidden to even get out of bed. Hermione had grabbed as much food as she could, and Ginny was carefully arranging the food on plates. It was a habit passed down from her mother, Harry supposed, to have meals nice and tidy.

"Thanks," Harry said when she passed a plate to him, and Ginny blushed almost as furiously as she had when they had first met.

What was going on? At least she was still able to talk around him, but this switch back to the embarrassed behavior was unexplainable.

"Something interesting happened last night," Harry announced, starting on some eggs.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Harry swallowed before answering. "Dobby came to visit."

Hermione nearly dropped the mug of tea she was holding, Ron glanced up from his food, and Ginny did a double-take.

"Dobby? The same one that kept us from taking the train to Hogwarts?" Ginny asked.

"The one and only," Harry confirmed. "Told me some interesting things. He mentioned that the Malfoys were bad people, and that that might have something to do with the Chamber, and then he let slip that it had been opened before, and then he started to try and drown himself in —"

Hermione did drop the mug of tea this time; it shattered on the ground, sending hot tea everywhere.

"_Reparo!_" she said quickly, saving the cup but not the contents.

"Why did Dobby come?" Ginny asked, while Hermione moved her wand over the puddles of tea, muttering some incantation.

"Trying to convince me to leave Hogwarts," Harry said dryly. "He closed the barrier, thinking that we couldn't get in that way. Then he jinxed my broom, hoping that I'd crash. He's trying to save my life."

"By killing you?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

"Just injuring," Harry said with a sigh. "Well, what do we do now?"

Harry was referring to their investigation into the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets ordeal.

"I'm making some progress," Hermione reported, "but there are a lot of books. And we just found out that Lucius Malfoy might be involved."

"Just keep looking, then," Harry said with a shrug.

* * *

It really was amazing to Harry how uneventful the next three weeks were. There was only one Gryffindor Quidditch match, in which Hufflepuff put up such a good fight that even Harry's catching the Snitch gave them an eighty point win. Harry's performance during the match was hampered by the usage of a borrowed broom, as his Nimbus was being repaired. There were no attacks, homework was no different than usual, Hermione was still making her way through the library section, and there were more Quidditch practices. There was plenty of time for Harry to think on Ginny, however.

The more he thought about it the more he was confused. He now seemed to view her mostly as his best friend. But there was a trace of something else, that was for sure.

When he saw the announcements for the Valentine's day celebrations he had an idea. He would write Ginny a letter.

Anonymous, of course. But maybe he would be less confused if he could write his feelings out on paper.

It was Valentine's Day, and the whole school seemed to be in a bit of chaos. Lockhart announced that there would be no classes for the day, and had volunteered Snape for making Love Potions; Harry pitied the student who was foolish enough to ask about one. The rest of the Professors seemed to go along with it. The year hadn't been the most cheerful one, after all, and people could use some fun.

Harry had skipped lunch, and was in the common room again. He had checked to make sure it was empty before sitting down with a quill and a few small pieces of parchment. He dipped the quill in a bottle of ink and started to write.

_Dear Ginny,_

No. That was too much like a letter.

Thirty minutes later Harry was running out of time before lunch was over and the common room would not be deserted anymore, but he had finished. He held the finished letter up to the light and read it out loud.

"_You have really pretty red hair. And a very nice smile.  
You are good at magic, and have a nice laugh.  
You are a great person, and very nice.  
And you are pretty._"

Well, it wasn't long, or a poetic masterpiece, but in Harry's opinion it was a pretty good poem. It was anonymous, of course; he was still having trouble deciding whether he did 'have a crush' on her, or if his feelings were that of a good friend and honorary big brother.

"That should cheer her up," Hermione said.

Harry started so badly that he dropped the letter and the quill. Fumbling around to pick up the letter and quill, he saw that Hermione was leaning against the entrance to the common room, one hand on her hip.

"How —"

"I followed you back here," Hermione said. "I had a feeling I knew what you were doing. I must say, it may not be _Iliad_, but it _was_ written from the heart."

"Ili-what? And how much — it was just written as a —"

Harry was having extreme trouble talking after the shock of Hermione appearing in the room, after he had been so sure that it was deserted.

Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I was merely saying that she could use some more cheering-up in her life. She hasn't been looking too good, has she? Besides, it just means whatever you want it to mean," she added cryptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded.

"You can figure it out," Hermione said infuriatingly. "Anyway, I think I might have found something in the library, or at least I'm really close. Have fun."

* * *

Harry had to track down one of the many dwarfs Lockhart had employed for Valentine delivery service, which was not easy, and speak to it in private, which was even harder.

"Singing Valentine for Ginny Weasley," the dwarf grunted. "Right."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "No singing. Just give it to her. And make sure _not_ to tell her who gave it to her."

The dwarf gave another grunt, and stomped off.

An hour later, Harry was wondering if Ginny had gotten it when another dwarf came running at him.

"'Arry Potter," the dwarf said. "Singing Valentine for you."

* * *

Ginny Weasley was ecstatic. She had been feeling exhausted over the past week or two, and life had just not been as fun as it should have been. However, things seemed to be changing today.

She had sent Harry a really stupid Valentine; it was the best she could do, and she meant every word of it, but it was an especially bad idea to have the dwarf sing.

But she had gotten a Valentine. She hadn't expected to get one, but she had. And she was almost positive it was from Harry.

First off, who would send her a Valentine? There weren't many people who she knew very well at Hogwarts. But more importantly, she thought she recognized Harry's handwriting. She had seen essays and other homework he had done, and it looked the same.

Harry _liked_ her!

After dinner, where she determinedly avoided Harry's gaze, she felt like she could skip back to the common room. Well, why not? Taking a long route back, she skipped through the halls, her head full of cheerful thoughts —

She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached an abandoned corridor not far from the common room. Harry was standing there, along with Hermione, who had her back pressed against a wall; it looked as though they were withdrawing from a kiss.

Her happiness imploded. Tears leaking from her eyes, she ran. First, back to the common room to grab the diary, and then…somewhere. Anywhere where she could be alone, except for her and Tom, who now seemed to be her only real friend.

* * *

Harry didn't think he had been more embarrassed in his whole life then when he had gotten the singing Valentine. And not just because it had sung a valentine to him in front of a crowd, including Draco Malfoy, but because he thought he knew who it was from, and from the looks Hermione kept giving him through dinner he had a feeling she knew.

She could be far too smart for Harry's liking.

Om the way back from dinner, Harry was walking with Ron and Hermione; Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him towards a deserted corridor.

"Where're you two going?" Ron asked.

"To talk," Hermione said. "We'll meet you in a few minutes."

Ron shrugged, and Hermione marched Harry off to the empty corridor. There was a moment of silence, while both friends just stared at each other, and then Harry finally said, "What?"

"You sent her a valentine," Hermione said.

"Nice detective work," Harry said crossly.

"She sent you a valentine."

Harry thought he caught her drift, and stepped forward. "Listen, just because —"

Harry stumbled and fell into Hermione, accidentally pushing her back and smashing her into the wall; their foreheads collided painfully. Seeing stars, Harry groaned and moved backwards, never seeing the small figure dash away in tears.

"You're clumsy," Hermione stated.

"D'you know a spell for getting rid of headaches?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No," Hermione answered grimly. "You go back to the common room; I'll take a look in the library."

* * *

Ginny had managed to hide her tear-stained face from all the occupants of Gryffindor tower long enough to grab the diary and run back out. She wandered frantically about, trying abandoned classrooms to see if they were unlocked, but with no luck. She finally found herself wandering a seventh-floor corridor, pacing. She just needed a place to write in the diary. That was all. Just a place to cry and write. To cry and write. To cry and —

She jumped back in surprise as the wall split open, revealing a door. Cautiously, she walked up to the door and tried the handle. It was open.

When she stepped inside the door closed behind herm but she didn't even notice. It was a small room, with a bed that looked remarkably like her own, and what looked like a very comfortable chair, and a table with many quills and several bottles of ink.

Ginny had no idea what this was about, but she wasn't going to complain. It looked so much like her room, which was the spot where she felt secure. Sitting down on the chair, she opened the diary. Before she could even reach for a quill, a tear fell out of her eye and splashed onto the open page. The moisture lingered for a second, and the faded into the book. Words followed it.

"_You are crying, my dear. Is something wrong?_"

Ginny grabbed a quill and began to write. "It's Valentine's Day, and I sent a Valentine to Harry, and he sent one to me."

"_That is wonderful, Ginevra,_"

Ginny shook her head, and then remembered that Tom couldn't see her.

"No. Well, yes, but then after I caught him in the hall snogging Hermione Granger."

The reply was a moment in coming. "_Hermione Granger? But why would he do that?_"

"I don't know."

Another tear hit the page.

"_She must have put a curse on him. I am sure you are far prettier than she is, and you are a Pureblood. You mentioned she's a Mudblood, did you not?_"

Ginny winced. "Mudblood is a really mean thing to call someone."

"_But Hermione Granger sounds like a very mean person._"

When Ginny didn't respond, the words were replaced by more of Tom's writing.

"_Let me show you something. I just know it will make you feel better._"

Ginny hesitated. Whenever he had offered to show her a memory, she tended to have blank spots that lasted many hours. Then again, not remembering might be exactly what she could use right now.

"Sure."

* * *

Harry was in the common room with Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors. Harry had tried to convince a. older student to help him with the headache, but the rumor that he was Slytherin's Heir was still running strong. Fred and George were insisting they knew no such spell.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry wondered. "Or Ginny?"

"Dunno," Ron said. "Haven't seen them for a couple hours."

Harry was thinking on a response when Professor McGonagall burst into the common room. The shock of this was enough for Harry to sit up straight, despite the pain in his head; even though McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor house, it was almost unheard of for her to enter the common room — or at least while the students were in it.

"Everyone to your dormitories immediately," McGonagall said sharply, and with a sinking feeling Harry knew something was very wrong. A few people opened their mouths to protest, but fell silent at the look on McGonagall's face. As the occupants of the common room started to leave for the stairs, Harry stood up and made to follow them, but McGonagall stopped him.

"Potter, Weasley, you two come with me."

Harry locked eyes with Ron, and swallowed. He was almost certain there had been another attack, and the fact that McGonagall was only asking for them suggested that it was someone close to them.

Hermione or Ginny. Or both.

As Harry and Ron followed McGongall to the portrait door, she asked, "Where is Miss Weasley?"

"I — I haven't seen her since dinner," Harry stammered out. McGonagall looked even more worried now, but said nothing.

As she escorted them through the castle, it took Harry a while to figure out where they were going. After another minute, he realized they were headed to the hospital wing. Harry tried to ask a question, but then realized he couldn't form words.

When they got to the infirmary, McGonagall opened a door and strode through. The door stayed open for Harry and Ron, and they walked into the very same place Harry had been a handful of weeks ago.

Lying on a cot, frozen in an awkward position, was Hermione. Her pockets had been turned inside out, as though she had been searching for something frantically, and her small, glossy-covered homework planner was clutched in her hand, evidentially so hard that they had not been able to remove it.

"She's not dead," McGonagall said. "Petrified, just like the others. So she will be alright when the Mandrakes mature."

Harry was both horrified and relieved. On one hand, to have Hermione be attacked was horrible; on the other she was alive.

"Can you two shed any light on what she was doing out at this hour?" McGonagall asked.

"She was going to the library," Harry said weakly, gazing at Hermione's frozen face. "I fell and we hit foreheads, and she was going to look for a spell to fix that."

Harry looked up suddenly. "Did everyone get sent to bed?"

"Yes," McGonagall answered.

"Ginny's somewhere in the castle, then," Harry said urgently. "I don't know where, but if there's some kind of monster out attacking —"

"We will find her," McGonagall assured them. "Now, would you two —"

Snape was suddenly in the room, his cloak flapping behind them. Harry and Ron quickly backed away as he stalked over to McGonagall and whispered something in her ear.

"You can't be serious!" McGonagall said loudly.

"I assure you, I am," Snape said coolly, abandoning his whisper. "I saw him at the hut myself."

"The Minister has gone mad!"

Harry looked at Ron, who was looking back at him with wide eyes. Professor McGonagall was insulting the Minister of Magic? What was going on?

"Professor," Harry ventured, "I'm getting tired. Can Ron and I go back to our dormitories?"

"Yes, yes, of course," McGonagall said distractedly.

Harry slowly walked out of the hospital wing, and then broke into a run. He heard the patter of feet, and Ron caught up, just beside him.

"What are we doing?" Ron hissed.

"My invisibility cloak," Harry panted. "Snape mentioned a hut — that has to be Hagrid's! C'mon!"

Harry and Ron ran through the halls, heading straight for the common room, from where they could get to their dormitory, and the cloak.

It seemed that everyone had obeyed McGonagall's order to head to bed, for the common room was empty. Well, not quite. Ginny was lying down on a couch, diary tucked under one arm and fast asleep. Harry let out a sigh of relief at seeing her safe and sound, although he had no idea how she had gotten there. He moved over to her and shook her shoulder, attempting to wake her up so she could come with them under the cloak to Hagrid's.

"Please just five minutes," Ginny said sleepily, not opening her eyes. "I fed the chickens yesterday."

Harry didn't have the heart to wake her from a dream of being back at the Burrow and drag her into a reality where Hermione had just gotten Petrified. With one last glance at Ginny, Harry crept up the stairs to get his father's cloak.

* * *

Ginny stretched and yawned. It was odd; she didn't know where she was, or what time it was. Yesterday started coming back to her, and she remembered how bad a day it had been. And then she had gone to that weird room, and talked with Tom, and then everything had gone black…was she still in that room? Well, she was still holding the diary.

Rubbing the grit out of the corners of her eyes, she opened them with great effort, and saw the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room.

How had she gotten there?

"Hi."

Ginny blinked a few times and turned her head to the side. Sitting in two chairs, looking tired, were Harry and Ron.

After yesterday, the last place she wanted to be was about five feet from Harry. She was still upset, but didn't feel like she could say anything even if Ron hadn't been here, and especially now that he was.

"How did you get here?" Ron asked. "You weren't here when McGonagall ordered everyone upstairs."

Ginny frowned, curiosity taking over. "Why'd she make everyone go to the dormitories?"

Both Harry and Ron looked thunderstruck.

"You haven't heard?" Harry incredulously said. When she shook her head, he explained, "Hermione was attacked last night."

Ginny felt as though someone had just slapped her. Or hit her. Or cursed her. Or all three.

That was it. That was the final thing. It was far too much coincidence that Hermione had been attacked when Ginny had been telling Tom how upset she was with the older girl.

Ginny knew for sure know. She was the one, _she_ was opening the Chamber of Secrets. She needed to see Dumbledore.

Then a horrible thought crossed her mind.

"Is Hermione…" Ginny trailed off, unable to say 'dead'.

"Hermione's alive," Harry said, sensing the question Ginny couldn't put into words. "She's Petrified like the others."

"What was she doing when she got attacked?" Ginny asked, driven by a sudden need to know everything. If she was going to be locked away, she figured she had the right to know as much as possible.

"Going to the library," Harry said wearily. "She was looking for a spell to cure headaches?"

"Headaches?" Ginny wondered.

"After dinner I slipped, and we hit heads."

Ginny tuned out Harry talked more. It was falling into place. She had mistakenly been mad with Hermione, and somehow Hermione was Petrified. But how?

"I need to see Dumbledore," Ginny announced to no one in particular, but Harry responded.

"You can't. Didn't you just hear what we said? About Lucius Malfoy, and the spiders?"

Ron shuddered at the last word, and Ginny shook her head. "I got…distracted. Can you tell me again?"

"Minister Fudge took away Dumbledore, and they arrested Hagrid."

Ginny almost dropped Tom's diary. Dumbledore was gone? "Why?"

"Malfoy's dad bullied the governors into getting Dumbledore removed. Malfoy said that 'they had no confidence in his ability to protect students' after the attack on Hermione. As if. Without Dumbledore, people are going to die," Harry said sourly. "And they took Hagrid to Azkaban because they think he's behind the attacks.

"I need to borrow Hedwig," Ginny said suddenly. "I need to send an owl to Professor Dumbledore."

"Ginny…" Harry said slowly, "Dumbledore's in hiding. He said help will always be available to students that need it, but —"

"Then I'll need help getting a letter to him," Ginny insisted. "And Hedwig's one of the brightest owls out there. If there's an owl that could find him, it'll be her."

"Why d'you need to talk to Dumbledore?" Ron said.

Ginny hesitated. She had intended to come clean about her role in all of this, but the fact was that she just didn't know exactly what was going on. And she just couldn't be locked away without knowing how this was happening. First on her list was to ask the Headmaster if he knew anything about Tom Riddle. Then she wanted to go to the library and find what Hermione had been looking for. _She needed to know._

Since talking to Dumbledore was out of the question, sending a letter would probably work. But she couldn't tell Ron, couldn't tell Harry about what was going on. Not yet.

"I just do," she said. "And I need to go to the library. Please? I'll take the invisibility cloak, so the monster can't find me."

Ginny seriously doubted that Harry's cloak would protect anyone against what was causing the Petrifactions, but considering that she was the one who was letting it loose, she didn't fear for her safety.

"I don't know —" Harry began, but Ginny cut him off.

"I'll go even if you don't give me the cloak. And I need to make a stop afterwards, so I'll be gone a bit longer."

From the look on Harry's face, he was obviously thinking fast. Ginny was pretty sure that he believed that she would go, cloak or not.

"Okay," Harry said at last. "Hang on, I've still got it on me."

While Harry started to rummage around for his cloak, Ron opened his mouth to protest. Knowing what was about to happen, Harry said, "Ron, she's going to go even if I don't hand it over. So drop it."

Ron closed his mouth. Overprotective brother or not, he knew when he was in a situation where he couldn't win. Harry found his cloak and tossed it to Ginny, who caught it.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised, and vanished.

* * *

It was a short trip to the Owlery, where she found Hedwig with no problem. Looking around for some form of parchment and writing, she found a medium-sized scrap and a half-empty bottle of ink, with a slightly-broken quill lying in it.

It would do. Dipping the tip of the quill in ink, she began to write.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
I know you must be busy, and I hope this owl finds you. My name is Ginny Weasley. I'm Ron Weasley's sister.  
I would like to ask if you have ever heard of someone named Tom Riddle. I have something that belongs to him, and I want to know if you know where I could find him._

_Sincerely,  
Ginny Weasley_

It wasn't up to the standards of her usual letters, but she figured it would do. Now for part two.

The halls may have been deserted, but Ginny knew where they would be. Harry had told her where to look for the Slytherin common room, and when she got its general location she was not surprised to see Draco Malfoy and a few other Slytherins out and about, clearly not worried in the least about getting attacked.

Ginny waited for a good ten minutes, until Draco wandered away from the group of other students, and leaned back against a wall. Ginny crept up to him, still under the cloak and under the cover of the chattering of the other Slytherins, and whispered in his ear.

"Don't move."

Draco, of course, jumped, but it was not noticed by anyone else. His eyes scanned left and right, but he took the instruction not to move seriously. Ginny figured that for all he knew, the monster could be standing right next to him

Ginny poked him in the back with her wand, which was also under the cloak. "Go."

As Ginny prodded Draco along the way she had come, he whispered back, "I know your voice. Who are you?"

Ginny pushed him around a corner, then in a single move whipped off the cloak and stowed it in her robes; Draco was still in the process of turning around when she had the cloak stowed. When he finished the turn, he did a double-take upon seeing Ginny, and then went for his wand. Ginny, however, was prepared for this.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Draco's wand flew out of his hand, and landed with a clatter on the stone floor behind them. Ginny kept the tip of her wand aimed at Draco's throat, making it clear who was in charge of the situation.

"_Weasley_?" he said in shock. "How — what —"

Ginny held up a hand to indicate that he shouldn't talk. Ginny felt different than she ever had before. If she was going to be arrested for her role in the attacks, she really didn't care about breaking some school rules along the way.

"I have one question," Ginny said softly but firmly, "and I want an answer. And just to let you know, I really don't care if I get expelled or not. Not now."

"What do you want?" Draco said, his voice shaking. If the situation wasn't so serious, Ginny would have laughed; he really did seem pathetic without the support of his two goons.

"I need to know exactly how far you got in your searches in the library," Ginny said. "And I need to know now."

A curious expression crossed Draco's face. "Interesting that _you'd_ want to know. If would have thought Potter would come…you're up to something else, aren't you?"

"Just tell me," Ginny said crossly.

"Find a book called _Mythical Beasts of the Sky and Ground_," Draco instructed. "I was near there, and so close when Granger started to look through there."

Ginny kept her wand aimed at Draco and motioned for him to turn around. As he did so Ginny tossed the cloak back over herself and hurried out of the corridor before Draco figured out what had happened to her.

* * *

"I feel left out of the loop," Ron said to Harry, who nodded. They were both reclining in comfortable armchairs in front of a fire in the common room, waiting for Ginny.

"I mean, 'I need to go to the library'?" Ron continued. "Rushing off without saying why. She better not be turning into Hermione. One of that girl is enough."

"She must've had a good reason," Harry said wearily.

"I did," Ginny said. Harry stood up and turned around; Ginny had entered the common room. His not hearing her enter would have been explainable if there had been other people in the room, but they were the only occupants. Everyone else had been forced to go to bed, and it was only thanks to Harry and Ron coming in back late that they weren't up there. Ginny walked over to the fire and sat down in front of it, and put a large book in her lap that she had previously had tucked under one arm. Harry sat down in front of her, and Ron joined him.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"_Deadly Monsters of the Underground_," Ginny said. When Ron looked confused, she added, "That's the title of the book. And it's important. Look."

Ginny displayed the spine of the book, which had a green circle drawn on it.

"I'm looking," Ron said.

"The book didn't use to be like that," Ginny said. "Hermione did it."

Ron snorted. "Hermione write on a library book? Come on."

"She would if people's lives depended on it," Ginny answered. "Anyway, I went to the library and saw that she had been marking the books. Things like '_Flobberworms as pets_' just had a red line on them, but books near where I found this started to have circles, and then circles with a red X inside of them. I think the ones with green were books that looked interesting, and the ones with Xs were ones she had eliminated."

Ron stared at her. "So…"

"So, I think Hermione found this today," Ginny finished. "She bookmarked a page. Look."

Ginny displayed the book for Harry and Ron to see.

"The Basilisk," Harry read. "Widely regarded as a myth, the truth is far more frightening. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live for hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Spiders —"

Harry looked up from the book. "The page is torn."

"I know," Ginny said. "Some of the other pages are like that; I think it's just old and wasn't treated properly. But a serpent? Slytherin? It has to be it. And the missing part must say how it can — how it can do these attacks."

"Hang on," Ron said, grabbing the book from Harry. "Someone wrote in this book, right where it got torn. 'PPs?'. That handwriting looks familiar…"

"It's Hermione's," Harry said, taking the book back from Ron. "She must have made a note…but what does 'PPs?' mean?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, "but I have an idea of someone who might know about a Basilisk. The Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

Harry racked his brains to try and remember what that teacher's name was. It was something funny.

"Is his name Kettleburn?" Harry wondered.

"That sounds about right," Ron affirmed. "Can't ask him tonight, though. Bet you they call off classes in the morning, you watch."

* * *

As it turned out, classes were still on. Everyone was late, though; teachers were ferrying students to classes, and by the time everyone was assembled the class tended to be almost over.

If Harry had been a subject of fear and loathing before, it paled in comparison to the treatment he was receiving now. Not seeming to take into account that he was best friends with Hermione, the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws—with a very few exceptions—were absolutely convinced that Harry was behind all of this. But Harry was past caring right now. The attacks were going too far, and he needed to find Professor Kettleburn.

His stroke of luck came unexpectedly. Lockhart was chaperoning a large group of students to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Harry actually felt bad for the poor teacher, who was clearly scared out of his wits. Harry fell back to the rear of the group (the Gryffindors parted to let him through, as though he carried a plague), and it was a simple matter to slip behind a suit of armor and throw on his cloak.

He had asked Fred and George about the Care of Magical Creatures class, and they had told him that Kettleburn would be in his office for another thirty minutes, and then always wandered around to find something to drink. Harry didn't ask why they knew this.

Harry took a left, a right, down a flight of stairs and through two doors pretending to be tapestries. He finally reached a wooden door with the name "_Professor S. Kettleburn_" engraved on the top of it.

Perfect.

Stowing the cloak in his pocket, Harry rapped on the door three times. About fifteen seconds later, a wizard with white hair opened the door and peered out at him.

"Hello — Oh, you're Harry Potter!"

Harry managed to fake a smile. "Yes sir, I am. I had a free period today, and I was wondering if I could ask you a question."

This was a blatant lie, for Harry did not have free periods. Nevertheless, the older man waved him in.

"Come in, come in…Harry Potter. I've been hoping to have you in my class, you know."

"I've been looking forward to that next year," Harry said in his most winning and charming tone, taking a step inside. "I just had one question about an animal, sir. It's considered to be a myth by some, but I was curious if you know anything about it."

Kettleburn sat down in a small armchair, and motioned for Harry to sit down in one across for him. "Ask away, dear boy."

Harry sat down in the chair and considered his next few words. "Have you ever heard of something called a Basilisk?"

Kettleburn squinted his eyes. "Hmm...there's quite a debate as to whether they're real, if I remember right. I must admit to not knowing much, but I have heard the basics, the bedtime tales. The fleeing spiders, the deadly crow of the rooster…" 

Kettleburn rapped his left arm against the chair, and Harry noticed it was missing a hand. Dangerous job, he supposed.

"How can it kill?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh, by all manner of ways," the teacher said with a wave his partially intact arm. "Fangs that drip poison, a gaze that can kill you if you meet its eyes—"

Harry jumped to his feet without realizing it. 'A gaze that can kill you if you meet its eyes'. Justin had a shiny shield. Colin was looking through a camera. Hermione had a glossy book with her.

_None of them had seen the Basilisk in the eyes. The power must have been diluted or something._

"Thank you," he said quickly. "Thank you very much, professor."

Looking slightly befuddled, Kettleburn rose to his feet and nodded at Harry. As Harry was in the process of dashing out of the room, he said one more thing that Harry slowed down to hear.

"Oh, and Potter," Kettleburn called out. "Don't let those people who think you're behind all of this get to you. After all, _I'm_ a Muggleborn, and no one's exactly Petrified me, have they?"

Harry gave Kettleburn one last smile, and then dashed from the room, feeling both in a more cheerful mood and exhilarated by his discovery.

* * *

Waiting under his cloak next to the portrait of the Fat Lady, it seemed to take forever for Ron to return from his class, and even longer for Ginny. Once they each arrived he pulled them aside, and managed to sneak all three of them to a deserted corridor. After making sure that no one else was around, he regaled them with what Kettleburn had told him, from the introductions to Kettleburn's parting words, and Harry's own thoughts on the matter.

"It _has_ to be it," Harry proclaimed. "The Petrifying because nobody actually saw it, the spiders in the forest — get a grip, Ron — and the fact that it's a serpent. Ginny, what d'you think? Ginny?"

A lump had risen to Ginny's throat, and she was unable to respond. She had been hoping against hopes that there would be something that would prove that the Basilisk couldn't be harming anyone, and that she actually wasn't behind attacks. But the thing that made it impossible to wiggle out of that belief was the roosters. After one of her fugues, she had woken up covered in rooster blood and feathers; she must have killed the roosters because they were so much of a threat.

"Ginny?" Harry repeated.

She was going to turn herself in. Well, not just like that: she would let the diary know it was finished, tell Harry goodbye, and then go to McGonagall. It was the only option.

"Hello?"

With extreme effort, Ginny forced a smile. "I just need a minute. Sorry."

And with that she walked away from the corridor they were in, and to the seventh floor, where that magical room was.

* * *

It took her three tries to get the room to appear again, but the replica of Ginny's room appeared for her again. Stepping inside it, she closed the door behind her and sat cross-legged on what she could have sworn was her bed. Opening her book bag, she fished out the diary, a quill, and some ink. Flipping it open, she was surprised to see letters form before she even touched the page.

"_Well?_"

Ginny was shaking so bad that she had to hold her right hand with her left to keep it steady enough to write. "I know what you're doing, Tom. Well, I don't know how, but you're making me let loose a Basilisk."

The reply was long in coming, but it confirmed her fears. "_It took you long enough to figure it out, my dear. Let me see, Ginevra, how you did it._"

Without warning on of the pages flipped over, so that everything was blank, and Ginny's world went black. When she came to, she was sitting exactly where she had been before, with the quill in her hand. It looked like she had been out of it for only a few seconds, but there was new writing on the page.

"_Most impressive. You got Potter to talk to a teacher…a Mudblood teacher. But you had to write a letter to Dumbledore to figure out who I am…I am most, most disappointed._"

"Then who are you?" Ginny wrote. "Who is Tom Riddle?"

"_I will tell you next time we talk._"

Ginny felt like throwing the diary across the room. "You don't get it, do you Tom? I'm going to stop writing, and then I'm going to tell Harry, and then McGonagall. They'll burn you."

The diary actually shook a little, and Ginny had the most disturbing feeling that it was laughing. How could it do that? That was impossible.

"_Oh, you won't be doing that right now. Haven't you guessed? Why you're so weak, I'm so strong? No? I'll tell you after I show you something first._"

Ginny knew what was coming, and now knew what it meant. She scrambled to get out of her chair, but to her dismay she couldn't move. She couldn't even take her gaze off of the diary, no matter how hard she tried to move. It was as if she wasn't in control anymore.

Finally, weakened, exhausted, and frightened, she gave up and let the familiar blackness take her.

* * *

"Oliver, I told you that this is a bad time."

Harry was sitting in the common room, with his Quidditch captain standing over him.

"I won't hear any excuses, Harry. We've been waiting for Madam Hooch to get your Nimbus back in shape, and in shape it is. And if we want to have any chance of beating Slytherin, we need to practice with our Seeker on his broom. Do you understand?"

Harry rubbed his forehead wearily. "Fine. Ron, d'you mind staying here incase Ginny gets back?"

Ron shook his head, and Harry was glad that his friend was willing to miss watching a practice for this. Wood seemed determined, and there was no way that they could have a private conversation with him tailing Harry.

Harry grabbed his Nimbus and Quidditch uniform, and headed down to the pitch. While it wasn't raining, the sky was mottled by clouds that obscured the sun, and the day felt very gloomy. No sooner had Harry changed and kicked off then a figure came running onto the field. It was Madam Hooch.

"Get down here immediately!" Hooch shouted, her wand pressed against her throat. "Right now!"

Fred and George exchanged a secretive glance, and Harry overheard George whisper, "You don't think she found out about the vanishing thumbtacks, do you?"

While Fred shrugged as if it was a likely possibility, Harry had a feeling that something much more serious was going on. The last few times a professor had barged in on something it had something to do with an attack. That feeling intensified when he landed and saw the wild look on the adult's face.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"You all, come with me. We're going to the Great Hall," she said, ignoring Harry's question.

"What's going on?" Harry repeated, this time much louder. Hooch turned and looked at him, obviously deciding on what to say. Finally she settled on four words that chilled Harry to the bone.

"Somebody has been killed."

_A/N: Well, hoped the chapter was worth at least some of the wait.  
Well, until next time. Reviews are welcome, as they do tend to improve moral (or mistakes in some cases), but I'll work just as hard even with no reviews. _


	10. Revived

**Just You and Me**

_  
A/N: Well, for me that was a quick update. I apologize in advance for any mistakes; in the time I have had I've spent a fair amount of time editing it, but I may have missed a sport or two. I'll try to keep up the pace (or better), but no promises.  
That no promises has largely to deal with the fact that I am dealing with a very tough period in my life, and my ability to write _Just You and Me_ has been hit hard.  
I would like to very much thank everyone who has left a review, positive or negative. It really helps raise my moral to know that people are reading this thing. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

-

**Chapter Ten: Revived **

"Somebody has been killed."

For a moment Harry thought he was dreaming, until Madam Hooch grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him into the small group of Quidditch players that was gathered around her.

"Wands out!" Hooch declared. "Keep them at the ready in case we encounter…something. But for Merlin's sake don't hex another student. Now go!"

Hooch started pushing the cluster of students towards the changing rooms, from which they would enter the castle.

"Who's dead?" Harry demanded, thinking immediately of Ginny, and then of Ron.

"Get inside! Grab your wands, but leave everything else." Hooch insisted, paying no heed to Harry's inquiry.

Resigning himself to the fact that he would soon find out, he joined most of the other players in retrieving their wands. There was no real reason a Quidditch player would need one in flight, so they were kept in the changing room.

The walk to the Great Hall was frightening. While Harry had always taken the monster, which they now knew was a Basilisk, seriously, because of the non-lethal type of attacks he hadn't been afraid for his life. But he now took great comfort in the presence of older and more experienced students.

Upon reaching the very place where he had eaten breakfast this morning, he noticed a large change. The Great Hall was divided into four sections, one for each house, and there were rows of sleeping bags lined up on the floor, in house colors. Clearly they were expected to stay for at least the night.

Making his way over to the Gryffindor corner, he spotted two red-haired students, one with long hair and one with shorter hair. Ginny and Ron. Quickly threading between sleeping bags, he plopped down on an empty one next to his friends' sleeping bags.

"What happened?" Ginny asked instantly. "We were just told to get over here. No one's telling us anything."

"Someone died," Harry said grimly. "I don't know who, but we're going out find out, I'm sure."

"Kettleburn," Ginny whispered, thinking about who she had last talked about with Tom Riddle.

Harry looked at her curiously. "What did you say?"

Ginny was spared the trouble of replying when someone was heard clearing their throat, very loudly. Harry's head snapped around to see McGonagall standing in the front of the Great Hall.

"Your attention, please."

The Acting Headmistress did not have to yell, but her stern voice made everyone, share a few choice Slytherins who continued whispering, shut up.

"Thank you. Now, as some of you may have heard, there has been a murder." McGonagall's voice cracked on the last word, and she seemed to let the sudden uproar serve as a reprieve to let her voice recover.

"As I was saying — quiet down in the back! As I was saying, someone has been killed, probably by whoever or whatever has been attacking students at this school. It is my sad duty to report the death of Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

Although Ron continued to stare at McGonagall with rapt attention — as did most of the school — Harry's head snapped around to face Ginny, who returned his gaze with wide eyes. She had said 'Kettleburn' before McGonagall had announced who died, _and_ she had implied that she didn't know someone had died. Something was very, very wrong with the picture, wrong with Ginny, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it.

"— Because of the situation," McGonagall continued, and Harry realized he had missed a few seconds of her speech, "Anyone who wishes to leave Hogwarts may simply tell me or another head of house. The Hogwarts Express is coming early to take everyone who does now wish to stay. As for those who do wish to stay, I cannot say for certain that your stay at Hogwarts will be much longer than those who choose to leave now."

There was a large murmuring in the crowd, silenced once more by McGonagall. "You will all stay here for the remainder of the day, and at least over night. Food will be brought to you, and any students requiring the use of a lavatory must have a teacher escort. Understood?"

Harry nodded blankly. He turned to ask Ginny a question, and noticed that tears were trickling down her face, and she looked as if a family member had just died. That struck Harry as odd; as far as he knew Ginny had never even met Kettleburn.

"Harry," she whispered suddenly, "I need to talk to you. _Alone_. Outside. Grab the cloak."

Harry was about to protest, but Ginny had already stuck her hand into his pocket and grabbed it. Making sure no one, including Ron, was looking, he slipped under the cloak with her. It was hard work avoiding stepping on anyone, but they finally made it to an open door. Harry almost threw off the cloak, but noticed Professor Sprout standing next to the door, wand in hand. Changing direction, they walked to the right a bit until they were out of sight and hearing range of everyone else. Ginny then pulled the cloak off their heads and stowed it in her pocket; Harry was too curious about what was going on to notice that she didn't return it to him.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

Ginny bit her lip, and another tear trickled down out of the corner of her eye. "I'm causing these attacks, Harry. I'm the reason Justin, Colin, and Hermione got Petrified. And now I killed someone."

Harry sputtered in disbelief. "But — Ginny, _think_ about it. We know it's a Basilisk doing all of this, but how could you control it? You're not related to Slytherin."

"The diary," Ginny said in a low voice. "Tom Riddle is possessing me. I don't know how, but he is. I told him that I had a row with Colin, and the Basilisk attacked Colin. I told him that I saw you kissing Hermione, and it attacked Hermione. And then the diary read my mind or something, and found out about Professor Kettleburn."

Ginny turned her watery, pleading eyes to Harry. "I have to turn myself in."

"Ginny, you can't of —" Harry started, but then stopped. Some things did make sense: Ginny being back late at night, Ginny looked inexplicably tired.

"Alright," Harry said soothingly. "We'll go get the diary and turn it in to McGonagall. I'm sure she'll agree that it wasn't your fault — if it actually was the diary at all."

But even as he started the sentence, Ginny started shaking her head. "I have to do this myself. I can't explain why, I just do."

Ginny wiped a tear off her cheek. "Goodbye, Harry."

And before Harry could do anything, she whipped the invisibility cloak she had grabbed from Harry over her head and ran off. Harry had no idea where she went or where she kept the diary now, so any attempt to follow her would be pointless. In addition, he couldn't exactly sneak back into the Great Hall…so he was left in an empty corridor. Brilliant.

It was a good half-hour before Harry heard anything. A gentle hoot waved through the air, and Harry looked up to see Hedwig flying in the cramped hallway. Harry lacked any notion of how his owl had gotten here, but it was nice to see her. As she swooped down to land on the ground next to where he was sitting, he noticed that she carried a piece of parchment tied to her leg. With a jolt he realized that it must be Dumbledore's return letter to whatever Ginny had sent him. Because of the circumstances, he did not think twice about extracting the scroll and hurriedly reading it.

-

_Miss Weasley,  
First of all I would like to complement you on the idea of commandeering Mr. Potter's owl. She found me in record time, a feat she should not have been able to do in the first place.  
On a more serious matter, I am very disturbed to hear that one of Tom Riddle's possessions has fallen into your hands. You see, before the wizard known as Lord Voldemort assumed his title, he was known as Tom Marvalo Riddle. It would be accurate to call him Lord Voldemort during his stay at this fine school though; by the age of sixteen he had done things, things I believe to be of unspeakable evil. Therefore, I must urge you to immediately turn over whatever object you have to Professor McGonagall before it can cause any harm._

_Hoping you are well,  
Albus Dumbledore_

-

The letter slipped from between Harry's numb fingers and hit the floor, but he didn't notice. Fragments of conversations began to race through his head, unbidden; the jigsaw puzzle finally fell into place.

_"The diary. Tom Riddle is possessing me."_

Ginny had said that only today.

_"Yes, the timing works, but there were plenty of other people who went to Hogwarts at that time; he's not the only one who could have done it."_

Hermione had said that someone opened the Chamber of Secrets when Hagrid was at school.

_"I watched as he was expelled, given a slap on the wrist, and was allowed to stay out of prison, and to be on the grounds of Hogwarts."_

Riddle had said that. Riddle was at school when Hagrid was.

"Father_ knows, but he won't tell."_

Draco's father knew.

"_Lucius Malfoy? The one had practically worshiped Voldemort in Flourish and Blotts?_"

Draco's father was a devout follower of Voldemort.

_You see, before the wizard known as Lord Voldemort assumed his title, he was known as Tom Marvalo Riddle. It would be accurate to call him Lord Voldemort during his stay at this fine school though; by the age of sixteen he had done things, things I believe to be of unspeakable evil._

Ginny's diary was written by Voldemort. Ginny had been getting weaker lately. Voldemort was somehow draining the spirit out of her.

Ginny was a strong girl, Harry knew that. But especially in her weakened state, she wouldn't stand a chance against Lord Voldemort. He had to find her, _right now_. Grabbing the letter and stuffing it in a pocket, he stood up and began to run.

* * *

As she expected, by being invisible Ginny made it to her destination without being detected. Once inside the Gryffindor common room, it would be a simple matter of getting the diary and bringing it to McGonagall.

And then she'd go to Azkaban.

She made it up to her dormitory, and had opened her trunk when she felt a deep sense of foreboding. Surely picking up the diary wouldn't do anything. It was only when she was writing in it that it had possessed her, so it couldn't do harm just to pick it up for the trip to the Great Hall.

When she was halfway through the common room, Ginny revised her opinion on that matter when she suddenly felt her arms and legs go loose. But instead of falling to the floor, she found herself moving to sit down on one of the couches nearest to her.

After sitting down on the large and comfortable couch, she managed to regain control of her arms and put the diary down next to her.

She should have thrown it across the room.

Tom Riddle's diary opened of its own accord, and words formed on the page in that familiar, once comforting and now horrifying script.

"_What have you done, Ginevra?_"

Don't respond. Don't respond. That was the mantra she kept repeating in her head. Maybe if she just waited for it to get bored and close, then she could pick it up and bring it down to McGonagall.

"_You told Harry Potter, did you? And you actually think you're going to be able to tell Minerva McGonagall?_"

Ginny swallowed. Was Tom guessing, or reading her mind?

"_Yes, my dear, I can hear what you think. Why don't we have a proper conversation about why?_"

"I'm not writing in your diary anymore," Ginny blurted out loud.

"That wasn't what I meant."

Ginny scooted backwards in shock as the audible words came out of the diary. Except it wasn't so much coming out of the diary as it was a figure that was rising from the retched book. Uncompressing as he grew, the semi-transparent form of a sixteen year-old Tom Riddle finally stepped out of the book, and down to the floor. Even though Ginny was perched on the couch, he still towered over her.

Before she had started going to Hogwarts, Ginny would have written this up as a nightmare. Unfortunately, the figure in front of her was nothing like the monsters that sometimes visited her head during the sleeping hours. He was a handsome teenager, but the look on his face scared Ginny. He was running his eyes up and down her body, and a leer was on his face.

"I am so glad that I can actually see you now," Riddle said. "I was only able to sense you. You know, you are a very pretty girl."

Coming from Harry, another kid her age, or someone in the family, that statement would have made Ginny feel happy. However, the way this apparition said it made her feel chilled to the bone; there was nothing complementary about it.

"How — how are you doing this?" Ginny managed to stammer out.

Riddle smiled. "It's very simple, my dear Ginevra. All year you've been pouring your soul into my diary. I could never have hoped for someone who wrote in it so often with such _pathetic_ concerns and problems, but ones that were vital to your silly little heart."

Even though she had figured out that the diary and Riddle were bad, the insults from what she had considered a friend still stung.

"Anyway," Riddle continued, "once you started you couldn't stop, could you? I drew power from it, possessing you, using you to open the Chamber and unleash the Basilisk inside. And as soon as you started writing about your suspicions about yourself, suspicions _so_ important that you couldn't tell anyone else, my power grew — and grew — and grew. It grew to the point where I've been sapping the life out of you, making you tired and old while I get rejuvenated."

Ginny pushed herself back on the couch until she couldn't get any further away; she was too shocked and horrified by what was going on to speak.

"Your Mudblood friend came _very_ close to ruining it. You can imagine my joy when you gave me a reason to kill her. But you were still stronger than I thought. You managed to recall the Basilisk after it had Petrified her. Otherwise she would have been shipped home to her Muggle parents with the venom stuck in her veins."

"The secret's out," Ginny managed to say. "Harry and Ron know about the Basilisk, and they'll tell —"

"But no one has figured out how it's getting around without being seen…something for which I am disappointed with your detective skills. An infant could have translated the Mudblood's notes into pipes."

Ginny thought back to what had been written in the book. 'PPs'. Pipes. The serpent was moving through the pipes in the wall. But how did Tom know about the book…he was reading her mind, of course. Ginny felt her stomach lurch at the thought of Tom hearing everything that went through her mind, and she suddenly felt very queasy.

"Lucius' son almost messed up the plan too," Riddle continued. "But after you told me his surname, there was no way I could hurt him. Not when his father is one of my most devoted followers. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Lucius is how you got my diary in the first place."

"What do you mean by followers?" Ginny asked.

Riddle laughed a high, horrible laugh. "You really _are_ prettier then you are smart, aren't you? I shed the name of Riddle long ago. My dear Ginevra, you have been talking all year with Lord Voldemort himself."

Riddle touched a finger to Ginny's forehead, and while it did not feel as solid as a human index finger, was still clear in some spots, and was chilling cold, it was definitely more solid and real then it had been a minute ago. Ginny swallowed to keep down the rising bile in her throat.

"But I don't care about the Mudbloods right now, and you have one last job for me. My dear, we're going to go and paint a message. Your own blood will suffice this time, I think. Then we're going to go down to the Chamber of Secrets, I will take the life from you and return to power, and kill Harry Potter so that no one will ever doubt my powers again. _Ever_."

Riddle ran his cold and horrible finger from Ginny's forehead, down past and behind her right ear, and lightly trailed it down across her stomach to her waistline before lifting his hand away.

Riddle leered at her. "And it will all be thanks to you."

Unable to keep it in any longer, Ginny threw up on the couch.

Feeling woozy, Ginny surrendered to the black spots that were clouding her vision. One portion of her brain, a outnumbered part, was insisting that she clean up the full contents of her stomach that partially adorned her pants, that she get out of the room, that she make a better effort to turn in the diary and stop Voldemort.

The rest of her brain told her the truth. She had been manipulated for this from the second she had touched a quill the surface of Riddle's diary. And to tell the truth, even though she had an inkling this time the blackness would be permanent, Ginny was almost relieved. Not that Ginny was suicidal; it was just that she was so tired, and was too weak. If only there was a way to warn Harry and Ron…if only. But she supposed that this was for the best.

"Yes, my dear," Riddle said in an amused tone. "This is for the best."

And then Ginny let the blackness take her.

* * *

Harry was going to be in a _lot_ of trouble. He had frozen the astronomy professor, whose name he could never remember. She had been standing guard in a corridor he _really_ needed to get through, so a whispered and well aimed _Petrificus Totalus_ froze her, and sent her toppling down a few stairs. Without the cloak, he didn't have many options.

He wasn't sure if cursing a teacher constituted expulsion or suspension, and it wouldn't be hard to figure out that it was Harry who had done that bit of wand work. Still, he was a lot more concerned for Ginny then he was about his chances of remaining at Hogwarts. Her life, which Harry was currently considering to be in mortal danger, was important enough to him to risk staying at the Dursleys for the rest of his life.

He made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, had to wait for half a minute while he remembered the password, and sprinted inside the common room.

It seemed to be empty.

Harry desperately ran around the room, hoping that Ginny was fast asleep on a couch or chair and hadn't been visible at first glance. While he had no luck finding her, his nose detected a sickening stench coming from one of the couches. Drawing closer, he saw that someone had vomited on the piece of furniture.

Harry shifted his eyes to the ground, and saw small speck of vomit on the floor. It looked like someone — Ginny — had thrown up on herself, and then walked off. But why?

Harry's stomach sank as he reached the most probable conclusion: Ginny had tried to retrieve the diary, but it had possessed her in the process. And if it knew that she was going to turn it in…

Harry did not have time to complete this thought process, for at that moment Severus Snape barged into the Gryffindor common room, looking extremely annoyed. Normally Harry would have taken the Head of Slytherin House's presence in here to be a sign that he was delusional, but at this point Harry was past worrying about sanity, and was only focused on Ginny.

"There you are," Snape ground out. "Staying in the Great Hall was too boring for you, was it?"

So Snape had been sent to find him. While Harry and Snape were on about the worst relations possible for a teacher and student, he was still a professor, and Harry figured he might be able to help.

"Please, sir, I need your help. Ginny Weasley is —"

"Missing, I know," Snape said coldly. "Potter, far more talented, knowledgeable and experienced wizards than you are looking for her. Do you honestly think your amateur help is —"

"They won't find her!" Harry yelled, knowing he was dangerously close to pushing Snape too far. "She's being possessed by Voldemort, and —"

Curiously enough to Harry, Snape did not flinch when Voldemort was spoken, but his left arm twitched. Harry stopped in midsentence when he noticed the look Snape was giving him.

"The fables you come up with," Snape said softly. "The Dark Lord possessing her, indeed. You will come with me — _now_ — back to the Great Hall. You will be dealt with accordingly then."

Harry nodded agreeably, his mind racing. Snape gestured with his hand, which Harry noticed had a wand in it, towards the door. Harry stepped through the portrait hole and outside. Snape stepped out behind him, and started prodding Harry towards the Great Hall.

A couple floors down and many twisting turns afterwards, Harry made his break for it. Turning around the opposite corner that Snape wanted him to, he took off as fast as he could. The Potions Master was not expecting it, and Harry gained a valuable head start. He zigzagged while he was running, trying to keep Snape from getting off a jinx to stop him.

He finally reached the girl's bathroom where Moaning Myrtle supposedly resided, and dived inside. Chest heaving, he sat down and tried to hide out of sight. He was pretty sure that he had lost Snape, and after a few minutes it would be safe to look for Ginny again.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry blinked and turned around, but saw nothing. Then he looked up, and saw a ghost of a girl with large glasses and a sad face hovering above him.

"Ah, yes," Harry whispered. "Are you Myrtle?"

The ghost nodded, looking sad to even acknowledge the fact. "I've never seen you in here before," she said, pushing the transparent glasses up on her nose.

"Must not have looked at the right time, then. I've been in here, before," Harry said. He cocked his head to one side and listened for Snape, but heard nothing.

"Listening doesn't help keep you alive," Myrtle proclaimed glumly.

Harry blinked, confused at this take on the situation. "Oh. Really? Did that have something to do with how you died?"

Myrtle floated backwards. "Are you asking me how I died?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "Not if it offends —"

"Oh no, I've never told _anyone_ how I died," Myrtle said enthusiastically. "It was very mysterious. It happened right here, you know. In that very stall."

Myrtle pointed at a bathroom stall along the wall. Harry figured he had enough time to hear the story, and then Snape would have stopped looking.

"Fascinating," Harry said. "What happened?"

"Well," Myrtle said, obviously enjoying having an audience, "I was sitting in that bathroom stall and crying, because people were teasing me. And then there was this noise, and someone was talking. It sounded like a boy, so I opened the door a bit to tell him that he wasn't allowed in here, and I died."

Harry blinked. "Just like that?"

"Well, I did see a pair of yellow eyes first," Myrtle amended. Harry shot to his feet without realizing it. The Basilisk had been in this bathroom, and had stumbled across Myrtle. _Myrtle_ was the one who died all those years ago. But why was the Basilisk in the bathroom? Harry's gaze wandered across the sinks, the mirrors, the pipes…the _pipes_. PPs. Pipes. That was what Hermione had made a note of. It was traveling through the pipes, through the walls.

And Myrtle had heard a male voice, right before she had been killed. Tom Riddle had been controlling the Basilisk back then, Voldemort had; would Ginny have come here too?

"Myrtle," Harry said carefully, "has anyone else been in here recently?"

Myrtle's eyes glimmered, although with excitement or tears Harry could not tell.

"Oh, yes. There was that cute Weasley girl, and that charming boy from when I was —"

Myrtle stopped, and her ghostly eyes started to fill with tears. "You're just using me for information!"

"No!" Harry said hurriedly, remembering what Hermione had said about the ghost. "I just —"

But it was too late. With a wail, Myrtle spun around and flew through the wall of the nearest stall, and vanished with a splash of water. Adrenaline pumping through his veins at the fact that Ginny had just been in here, Harry turned around and almost hit Snape, who was standing in the doorway.

Snape flicked his wand, and Harry's own wand, which had been stored in his pocket, went flying out and landed in Snape's left hand.

"This time you will come with me," Snape said, barely controlled fury evident in his voice, "and if you make one wrong move I will snap this wand in two."

"Professor," Harry said desperately, "Ginny was just in here!"

"OUT!" Snape yelled, control gone. "If there is still a school to be expelled from, Potter, I will see to it that you are. Move!"

Reluctantly Harry walked out of the bathroom, Snape trailing. They had only made it to the end of the corridor when McGonagall came running at them. The situation was just getting weirder and weirder for Harry.

McGonagall stopped when she saw that Snape had Harry with him. "Severus, there is something you need to see — but Potter needs to go back to the Great Hall."

Harry could see McGonagall struggling. Apparently there was something important for Snape to see, but neither professor were available to escort him back.

"Shouldn't you be with the students?" Snape asked smoothly. "You can take Potter back, if you will tell me where to go."

McGonagall shook her head distractedly. "No, no that won't work."

"I can come along," Harry piped up. Both head of houses looked at him.

"Potter," McGonagall started in a voice that seemed unusually kind for the situation, "this is something you way not wish to see."

Harry's mind was besieged by images of Ginny, dead, but he shook his head. "I'll be fine."

McGonagall hesitated, and then nodded distractedly.

It wasn't a long walk to McGonagall's destination. They had headed for a corridor much like the one the first message written in dragon's blood, and the other in rooster's blood had been scrawled in. Harry saw the two other head of houses on the scene, but was immediately distracted by the new writing, in red blood again.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER. MUDBLOODS, BLOOD-TRAITORS, THIS IS YOUR WARNING. LEAVE THIS SCHOOL.

Snape took a step back upon reading the message, nearly stepping on Harry's foot.

"Is there any chance it could be someone other than the Weasley girl?" McGonagall asked the two other professors who had already been there. Flitwick shook his head.

"All other students have been accounted for. Miss Weasley is the only person who is not in the Great Hall."

"Severus?" McGonagall asked, pointing at the writing. Snape stepped over and ran a finger through the S in School; the underside of the finger came out slick with red blood. Snape licked his finger, tasting the blood, and immediately spat it out in disgust.

"Human," Snape said, his face contorting. McGonagall looked faint, and Harry felt aghast. It had to be Ginny's blood, and there was a fair amount of it on the wall.

Harry lost track of the conversation, and only noticed when the four professors started to file off. Snape stalked over to Harry and roughly grabbed his arm, no doubt with the intention of yanking him all the way to the Great Hall.

"Wait, Professor Snape!"

This was Harry's one chance to save Ginny, and it rested upon the professor who hated him, the professor who he had never seen in such a mood; when Snape turned to glare at him there was undisguised disgust on his face, as if Harry was responsible for Ginny being captured — Harry couldn't say killed — and the blood.

"Please, sir, I think Ginny might be alive. There was a Basilisk, and it was petrifying people, and Ginny was writing in her diary, only it wasn't her diary, it was someone named Tom Riddle's, and it wrote back to her, and she thought it was possessing her and making her do all these attacks, and she told me about it and was going to turn it in to Professor McGonagall, but then she vanished, and she wrote a letter to Dumbledore using my owl and he responded saying that Riddle was Voldemort, and I went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and she said that she saw Ginny and someone else in there, and we need to go back!"

Harry was well aware that he was babbling, but couldn't stop. He watched Snape's expression go from pure disbelief and contempt when he started at the part with the Basilisk, and then to something unreadable during the rest.

"How did you learn that Tom Riddle is the Dark Lord's name?" Snape said slowly.

"I just _told_ you, Dumbledore wrote back. Look, I've got the letter."

Before Snape could respond, Harry pulled the crumpled letter out of his pocket and thrust it at Snape. The Potions Master hesitated, and then took the offered letter, smoothed it out, and scanned it with his eyes. After a few seconds Snape stored it in one of his own robe pockets, and turned his eyes to Harry.

"We're going to pay a visit to the ghost Myrtle. If you have been less than truthful, Potter, you shall dearly wish you had held your tongue. Are we clear?"

Harry nodded vigorously. "Yes sir, now can we please _go_?"

Snape strode off in the direction of the bathroom, walking fast enough that Harry was prompted to jog along to keep up.

They reached the bathroom where Myrtle resided and where Harry had sat only moments before. Snape shoved Harry back behind him, opened the door —

It was empty. In a fit of tears, Myrtle must have vacated the premises. Harry's heart sank even lower then had had previously thought possible, but apparently it was not over yet.

Snape waved his wand in a loopy pattern and said, "Myrtle!"

With a splash of water the ghost was expelled from her hiding place in the toilet, and zoomed towards Harry and Snape. When her forward motion stopped she was left hanging upside-down in front of the teacher and the student.

"That hurt," Myrtle pouted, tears still leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes," Snape said in a low voice, "and I swear I will find it possible to hurt a ghost even _more_ than Trapping it—unless you tell me what I want to know. Who did you see before Potter came in here?"

Harry took a step back, not wanting to be a part of this. Snape did not seem to like the ghost at all, and had even forgotten to make "Potter" sound like a curse.

"_Fine_," Myrtle said, now crying again. "That Weasley girl was with that handsome one, the one who never paid attention to me even while I was alive. Happy?"

For a rare and unprecedented moment, Snape shared a glance with Harry that communicated that they were worried about the same thing.

"'While you were alive'," Harry repeated. "So this boy with Ginny, the handsome one, he was around when you were at school?"

Myrtle nodded, a phantom tear missing Harry's face by inches. "He didn't look any older, Riddle did. I wonder if —"

Harry lost track of what Myrtle was saying at that point. His eyes shifted up to Snape, who looked taken aback.

Riddle was _actually_ with Ginny. _Voldemort_ was with Ginny. Not just in the form of a diary, but in the flesh.

"Professor," Harry started to say, but Snape cut him off.

"You stay here, Potter. The situation has changed now."

And with that, Snape whirled around and marched off, presumably to find help, and to warn about the return about Voldemort.

But Harry _couldn't_ just sit there—well, stand there—and do nothing. Ginny was in mortal peril, and he had to do something about it. He frantically paced around the bathroom, trying to think.

"Myrtle!" he yelled in desperation. "Will you please help me?"

There was a _plunk_, and the ghost's head appeared in a toilet.

"What do you want?" Myrtle asked gloomily. "Going to torture me or something?"

"No!" Harry said quickly. "I just wanted to know where you saw Ginny and Vold — Riddle."

"Why should I do that?" Myrtle replied gloomily. "You don't care about me."

"I _do_ feel bad that you died, and you can help me find you killer, and make sure he doesn't get anyone else!"

Harry was past desperate now, and knew that Myrtle wouldn't help.

But then, to his great surprise, a hand appeared above the rim of the toilet, and pointed straight at a sink.

"Right there," the ghost proclaimed. "They were over there, and talking funny. Sounded like snakes."

Myrtle may have said more on the subject, but Harry tuned her out. It made sense; Riddle was a Parselmouth, so there would be some kind of way to get into the Chamber of Secrets using the language of snakes. After all, the only person who spoke it was supposed to be Voldemort.

But Harry spoke it too. He moved over to the sink that Myrtle had pointed at, and was dismayed to find nothing out of the ordinary. As he turned to ask the ghost more questions, the sink to the right of it caught his eye. It was polished and looked new, a stark contrast to the old and rust sinks that lined this bathroom.

And there was a snake embalm on it.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke. "Open."

Nothing happened; the words came out in English. Not to be discouraged while Ginny's life was at stake, Harry closed his eyes and pretended that it was a real snake he was talking to.

"_Chamber of Secrets, open for me._"

This time his words came out in a harsh hissing sound, remarkably unlike his normal voice. The sink slowly moved backwards, and several others moved to the sides. After about twenty seconds they were finished, revealing a deep, black hole. By squinting, Harry thought he could see a slope, meaning he was to slide down.

Doing his best to ignore his hammering hear, the twelve-year old wizard jumped feet-first into the hole. His back immediately hit some kind of wall, but the fact that he was being pressed against it indicated that he was indeed on a slide.

After a short bit he was pitched out; his landing was cushioned by things that crunched, although that made it almost worse. Face to the ground, Harry could see the skull of a small rodent, although just barely in the near-blackness.

He was in the right place, that was for sure. He also couldn't see a thing, but Harry was a Wizard, and a simple _Lumos_ spell would fix that.

Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve his wand…and remembered Snape still had it.

It was then that the full extent of his situation dawned on him.

He, Harry Potter, who was just twelve years old, was in the Chamber of Secrets. With no wand. No backup. And he couldn't wait around for help, because every second he delayed the chances increased that Ginny would be actually be dead.

Swallowing hard, he started walking forward into the Chamber.

-

_A/N: Those who guessed Kettleburn for the dead person obvious guessed right. Also, anyone who is a fan of Ron _might_ have noticed that I didn't bring him along to the Chamber, or Lockhart for that matter.  
I apologize if anyone feels that Ron didn't play a big enough of a roll so far, but it had to be done. As for Lockhart…I'm still working on a way to deal with him.  
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm working my hardest on the next one._


	11. Greater Than Expected

** Just You and Me**

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I took a few liberties with the design of the Chamber of Secrets._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

**Chapter Eleven: Greater Than Expected**

Harry had only taken a few steps before he realized how foolish it had been to come down to this place alone. He couldn't see where he was going, and the passageway he was in did not go in a straight line; rather it curved left and right, following no distinct pattern. He bumped against an unlit torch perched in a holder on the wall, and wondered if he had passed others like it.

Harry had only taken a handful of steps before two torches ahead of him sprang to life, bathing a patch of the corridor in front of him in orange light. Harry raced forward with the intent of grabbing one of the lit torches, but no sooner had he reached the edge of the light then the light snuffed out, bringing back the darkness. At the same time, another pair of torches in front of him lit up.

After this routine repeated when he almost reached the next two torches, Harry realized that he was being toyed with. He was allowed to see immediately in front of him, but he was blind all around. For all he knew, there could be something sneaking up on him.

After a minute he reached a fork in the passage, but the lights only continued down the left way. It was then that the true purpose of the lights dawned on Harry. He was being led somewhere, and the knowledge that the person who was doing this was almost certainly Voldemort caused another revelation.

Voldemort _wanted_ Harry to go into the Chamber of Secrets. And if Voldemort was Riddle, and Ginny had been telling Riddle about her life on a daily basis, Voldemort surely knew that Harry would come to rescue Ginny.

He was being led into a trap. There was no other reason that Voldemort would care about Ginny except as bait, so all of this had to be a deception to get Harry where Voldemort wanted him.

The logical part of his brain said that he should go back. If Voldemort had just taken Ginny down here to lure Harry into a trap, Ginny was almost certainly dead, and there was nothing Harry could do about it — except to play into the dark wizard's hands and get killed. No, the smart thing would to retrace his steps, even if it involved bouncing into a few walls, and wait near the entrance to the Chamber. Snape would deduce where Harry had gone, and even if the sinks had moved back in place the teachers could get the location out of Myrtle; they could then force open the entrance, rescue Harry, and unite to defeat Voldemort.

That was what the logical part of his brain said, and Harry ignored it. Even if he was doing _exactly_ what Riddle wanted him to do, there was a chance that he could still save Ginny, even if it was a small one. And Harry didn't think he could live with himself if he fled to save himself while Ginny might still be alive.

Swallowing hard, he followed the light down the left fork. The inclination of the ground indicated that Harry was going deeper and deeper into the earth. But no sooner had the floor started to level off then all the lights behind him exploded into existence, illuminating the way back. The message was clear: this was Harry's last chance to go back.

Ignoring the comforting lights behind him, Harry walked forward through a tall archway that was engraved with silver snakes on the borders. Once past the archway Harry entered a large, dimly lit room. He could see vague outlines, but nothing else. He tentatively moved forward, eyes starting to acclimate to their surroundings. When Harry reached what he judged to be the middle of the room he encountered a large, dark shape. Thinking it was the Basilisk, Harry scrambled backward and reached for a non-existent wand; his hand grasped only the lining of his pocket, and he belatedly remembered that Snape had his wand.

When the dark shape in front of him made no move, Harry judged it safe to approach again. Closer inspection revealed that it was not the monster he was looking at, but the discarded skin of the beast.

Harry gulped as he surveyed the skin. With the available light it was impossible to tell the exact length of the serpent, but it was clear that it was gigantic.

Harry moved past the skin, being careful not to touch it out of some odd superstition, some feeling that the real monster would strike if he made contact with the skin. After he passed the last of the snake skin he encountered a large door. It was easily five times as tall as Harry was, and was the color of ebony; more silver snakes ran along the edges, the nose of each snake touching another's tail. Harry moved over to the right side of the door and tentatively placed his hand on the tail of one of the snakes. The metal was colder than ice; he withdrew his hand instantly.

Harry searched for a handle or some other way to open the door, but could find nothing. Remembering how he had gained entrance to this dark place, he concentrated one of the silver snakes, pretending it was real.

"_Open._"

For a second nothing happened, and then the silver snakes started to move on the stone, slithering in a continuous path along the edge of the giant door. With a grinding noise the door split down the middle; the left half melted into the left wall, and the right half into the right wall. Within a matter of seconds the door was gone, with no indication that it had ever been there. Harry took a step through what was now an open archway, and into the very last place he wanted to be right now.

A thin strip of a smooth stone path stretched from where Harry was standing to the end of this new room, bracketed by murky water. The room was fairly well illuminated, and Harry see that the shape of the room resembled an elongated horseshoe, running straight until the opposite end of the room, where a half-circle of land rested. He could also see that there were no further passageways. This was the final chamber.

That thought was immediately purged from his head by the scene that he could make out on the far side of the room. There was a small figure lying very still on the ground, and a much larger person towering over her.

Ginny. Riddle.

Harry took a step forward, but stopped as the doors behind him rematerialized and smashed together with a loud _boom_, trapping Harry. Harry's eyes had adjusted to the odd lighting, so he was able to tell that Riddle showed no reaction whatsoever to the noise the doors had made; he just stood there, staring down at Ginny. Finally he spoke, so soft that if there had been any other noise in this place Harry would not have been able to hear him.

"Harry Potter."

It was the same voice he had heard when Riddle had taken him into a memory in his diary. When Harry said nothing, at a loss for words and unsure what to do, Riddle smiled and produced Ginny's wand. "No need to be so shy, Harry. Why don't you come a bit closer?"

Riddle motioned with the wand for Harry to cross the small span of land that separated them. Lacking a wand or any other means as to resist, Harry complied. Half way across, Harry's right shoe caught on a protruding rock and he stumbled, nearly falling into the water. Riddle laughed unpleasantly. "Don't fall into the water, Harry. You never know what that could attract."

Harry glanced at the dark water. "Where's the Basilisk?"

"It will come when it is called," Riddle replied casually.

With effort Harry tore his gaze away from the depths and walked quickly over to Ginny and Riddle. He desperately wanted to rush over to Ginny, but knew that there was no way that would be allowed.

"Far enough," Riddle said when Harry came within ten feet of Ginny. Riddle flicked Ginny's wand casually, and Harry's arms and legs froze. Unlike the _Petrificus Totalus_ spell his head was still mobile. Riddle surveyed Harry for a long moment, and finally Harry's need to know got too great.

"Is she alive?" Harry blurted out.

Riddle chuckled. "Yes, for another moment or so. Then her death shall bring me back fully to corporeal form. As you can see, I'm almost there. Right now I'm trying to decide if I should kill you now, or wait until after she dies. Ordinarily I would make you watch, but unfortunately she won't be suffering much…and I might want to savor the moment on my own."

"You don't want me to join you? You don't want Harry Potter working for Voldemort?" Harry said, stalling for time. There had to be _something_ he could do.

"No," Riddle replied, shaking his head. "You wouldn't do that. That was what the game with the lights was all about. If you had turned back, tried to save yourself at her expense, you would have had suitable qualities to join me. _Slytherin_ qualities. But you acted like a fool and went to rescue her, even though you had no chance. No, you will not join my cause. Instead, your dead body will show that in the end no one can beat Lord Voldemort."

Riddle tossed Ginny's wand high into the air and caught it, as though playing with a baton. It was clear that Riddle was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"I really have you to thank," Riddle said with a slight laugh. "Dear Ginevra here has been talking _so_ much about you. I honestly don't think I could have come back this easily if it weren't for your relationship with her. My progress was far greater than expected from day one. I owe you, Harry. Unfortunate that I won't get a chance to repay that, isn't it? _Come to me._"

The last words were spoken in a hiss, and Harry knew what was coming. "Don't you want to fight me?" Harry said desperately. "I thought you wanted to show the world that you could beat me!"

Riddle shrugged. "That would be unwise. While the Lord Voldemort that implanted my memories in this diary did keep me around long enough forme to gather a great deal of knowledge, I have no idea how you managed to reflect his killing curse; if I tried it on you, it could reflect on me again, and I am not ready for such a trial until I take all of this girl's engery. No, I shall let the Basilisk kill you. There's no one here to spill the secret that I was not the one who dealt the final blow."

Riddle looked down at Ginny's unmoving form and sneered. "No one here that will live much longer, anyway. Goodbye, Harry Potter."

A loud, harsh hissing noise greeted Harry's ears: The Basilisk was growing closer. Unable to run away, Harry stared defiantly at a large, circular opening behind Riddle that the sound — and therefore the Basilisk — was coming from. If he was going to die, he might as well do it with his eyes open. But as the form of the giant serpent materialized from behind Riddle, Harry automatically shut his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to open them —

— And was knocked to the side when something burst past him from behind, striking Harry on the shoulder. As he fell to the ground a loud cry echoed around the room, and something fell on top of his head. A hat, to be precise.

Harry yanked the Sorting Hat off of his head, and saw Fawkes the Phoenix engaged in a strange dual with the Basilisk's head. Riddle looked on impassively as Fawkes' talons sunk into the eyes of the snakes, crippling the weapon it had used to kill Kettleburn, Myrtle, and Petrify so many others. The beast shook its head furiously, and in the process hit Fawkes hard with its giant head. The impact threw the phoenix to the ground; Fawkes lay in a pile on the floor, stunned. Harry gulped; he had automatically retreated when the two magical creatures had been fighting, and was now on the center of the strip of land that bridged from one end of this final chamber to the other, with only the hat for company. This was about as bad a place as he could be in.

Riddle looked at the wounded Basilisk, at the battered phoenix, and casually twirled Ginny's wand. "That's Dumbledore's bird," Riddle stated, taking another look at Fawkes. "The best Dumbledore can do is give you a bird and the Sorting Hat? _Kill him now._"

The snake's tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and it started towards Harry, who grabbed the only thing he had: the Sorting Hat…which felt unusually heavy. Backing away from the advancing serpent, Harry reached into the hat and somehow pulled out a long, glittering sword. Harry didn't pause to meditate on how it could have been stored in the hat, which was much too small; he charged forward and raised the sword, intending to chop through the Basilisk's neck.

While the snake was in a perfect position to be decapitated, head low to the point of touching the ground, and was not able to immediately detect his sudden advance, there were several problems with Harry's plan. The first problem was that he was twelve years old, and it was a sword made for a grown man. Even if he had been able to heft and swing the sword properly, the point he was aiming for on the neck was pure, touch skin and muscle. Even with all of Harry's strength in the blow the sword penetrated the skin perhaps half an inch into the tough skin, and then stopped. The Basilisk reared back, hissing in anger, and Harry just barely managed to keep the sword from getting ripped out of his grip. The Basilisk snapped forward into a strike, and Harry backpedalled furiously, holding the sword up in front of his face. Harry cheated death by a foot as the snake's mouth closed on the sword instead of Harry's torso. The force of the bite propelled the blade deep into the root of a fang, cutting into the flesh at the base of the tooth so violently it nearly tore the tooth off. Blood mixed with venom spurted out from the snake's mauled lower left tooth, splashing all over the sword. Thrashing in pain, the Basilisk swung its head from side to side, this time ripping the sword from Harry's grasp. It remained embedded in the mouth for a moment before the monster's violent shaking tossed it away, causing it to land in the vicinity of Riddle, Ginny, and Riddle's diary which lay only a foot from Ginny's unmoving hand.

"Enough," Riddle spat out, showing anger for the first time. He slashed the air with Ginny's wand, and with a _bang_ Harry was thrown back to the center of the island, once again with only the Sorting Hat for company. As the Basilisk advanced, Harry desperately groped within the hat for something else to defend himself, but that hat was empty.

If Harry was playing chess with Ron, this was the time his friend would say "Checkmate". Harry was on a small strip of land, almost completely unable to maneuver, and his only weapon was a hat — and an old one at that.

It was almost fitting that he would die with the Sorting Hat at his feet. After all, it had talked to him and _really_ confirmed that he was a wizard.

Harry was struck by a crazy thought. He had been given the hat for a reason; if whoever gave Fawkes the hat and sword just wanted him to use the sword, than the phoenix would have appeared with the sword in its talons.

Could the Sorting Hat speak to snakes?

This was probably the most insane thing he had ever done, but how could it hurt now? Harry grabbed the hat from the ground, steadied himself, and took aim. He was calm, for he had embraced the fact that he was probably going to die. All he wanted to do was to take Riddle out and save Ginny if he could.

When the Basilisk was fifteen feet away, Harry flicked his wrist and threw that hat like a Frisbee. The Sorting Hat flew better than it had any right to, and landed straight upon the Basilisk's nose, where it rested.

The Basilisk immediately halted its advance, and started swaying gently, as if hypnotized. Harry couldn't imagine what the hat was saying to Slytherin's monster, and didn't have time to ponder on the subject. Sprinting around the unresponsive snake, he headed straight for Ginny and Riddle, stopping to grab the sword.

He had made it to Ginny when he realized his plan to slice Riddle in half wasn't going to work. The almost completely corporeal dark wizard had backed up, and was aiming Ginny's wand directly at Harry's heart. Harry froze, unable to move any farther without being cursed.

"You are very clever, Harry Potter," Riddle said without a trace of admiration or approval in his voice. "Since you seem to be able to trick my monster, I'll have to take the chances of killing you myself. I was hoping to see the Basilisk butcher you, but even Lord Voldemort can't always get _everything_ exactly perfect all the time."

As Riddle opened his mouth to cast the spell that would surly kill Harry, Harry did the only thing he could think of: he swung the sword downwards with all his might, shearing the diary in half.

For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality could not have been more than a fraction of a second, Riddle just stood there, frozen in mid-spell. Then Riddle, who had been so close to draining all of Ginny's energy and breaking free of the diary, fell apart as if Harry had slashed his body in half from top to bottom. The most horrible scream Harry could possibly imagine echoed around the chamber, bouncing off the walls and seemingly coming from nowhere. Blue and black fluid spurted from the diary as if an artery had been cut, spilling a foul smelling fluid on the stone floor and on Ginny's arm. It covered the cut Riddle had forced Ginny to make on her own arm for the last message on the walls; when it came in contact with the open wound it sizzled and smoked. Within a second all that was left of the cut was a fairly nasty scar that would be concealed easily concealed by her sleeves.

Harry was about to drop the bloody sword and see if Ginny was alright when he heard a thumping noise from behind him. With great trepidation he turned around to find the Basilisk. The Sorting Hat had fallen off the beast's nose and landed on the floor. As it hissed and started to advance on Harry, Ginny started to stir.

Momentarily distracted, Harry bent down to Ginny's level on the floor. "Ginny?" he asked hopefully. "Can you hear me?"

Ginny's eyes snapped open, and she scrambled up into a sitting position. "Harry —you — Riddle — the diary —"

The Basilisk reared up behind Ginny, and Harry pushed the sword into her startled hands. Harry carefully aimed Ginny's unfamiliar wand at the sword, which Ginny was struggling to hold.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The sword was ripped from Ginny's grip and flew backwards out of her hands with surprising force. Tumbling end over end, it completed its ark by sinking into a spot at the back of the Basilisk's head. The Basilisk didn't move for a moment, the sword embedded a few feet into the brain. Then it toppled forward and hit the floor with a loud _thump_, dead.

Harry helped Ginny to her feet and was dismayed — but not surprised — to find that tears were streaming down her cheeks and she looked in shock.

A cry pierced the air, and Fawkes, who had recovered, flew over to Harry with the hat and the sword in his talons. Fawkes then slowly flew in the direction Harry had come from; Harry took the Phoenix's actions to mean that they should follow.

As Harry followed Fawkes, the lights flared up along the whole passage, providing much more illumination than before. Escorting Ginny, Harry was trying his best to make her feel better.

"You killed the Basilisk," Harry said cheerfully. "You stood up to Voldemort; everyone will understand that, you'll be fine."

Ginny said nothing, but Harry noticed that she flinched at Harry saying Voldemort. This was unexpected, considering that she had said his name before.

When they reached the tunnel Harry had slid down from, Fawkes stopped waiting for them and flew up the tunnel. Harry jumped forward in alarm, yelling after the phoenix. "Hey! "_Hey_!"

But Fawkes did not turn back. Harry turned to Ginny. "D'you remember how to get out?"

Harry realized immediately he had said exactly the wrong thing when Ginny started crying actively. Cheeks burning at his mistake, he looked back up the tunnel…and saw Fawkes returning. The bird had just gone up to drop off the sword and hat. Fawkes offered his leg to Harry, who tentatively took it, remembering Dumbledore's words on Fawkes' strength. Holding an arm around Ginny, Harry was whisked up to the girl's bathroom. Fawkes deposited both Harry and Ginny next to the sword and hat, and then vanished in a flash of fire.

It was only when someone cleared their throat that Harry realized he was not alone with Ginny. Jumping up and pulling Ginny's wand out of his pocket, he whirled around, ready to confront Riddle if he had survived the diary being cut in half —

"Put that wand down, Potter."

Breathing hard, Harry saw that he was aiming Ginny's wand at Snape, who was aiming a wand right back at him. Lockhart was also there, hovering near the bathroom door, looking thoroughly unsure as to how he had come to be there. Harry lowered Ginny's wand, and once he had done so Snape aimed his away from Harry.

"That wouldn't have worked well, Potter," Snape said, curiously lacking the sneer that would usually accompany a statement of that type. "Another wizard or witch's wand will not suit you properly for any confrontation."

Harry bit back the retort that it had worked nearly as well as his own back in the Chamber, but instead settled just for sitting back down and putting an arm around Ginny.

"What did you do down there?" Snape asked; apparently even he wasn't able to control his curiosity.

"Voldemort was back, and he had a Basilisk," Harry said slowly, ignoring Lockhart's flinching. "I killed Voldemort, and Ginny killed the Basilisk."

This was a bit of a lie, for Ginny really hadn't done much in the way of killing the giant serpent. However, Harry's hope was that it would gain Ginny respect in this whole incident.

Snape's expression left no doubt that he didn't believe a speck of Harry's story. "You killed the Dark Lord, and she killed a giant serpent that can kill with a glance?" Snape asked sarcastically. "Anything else you killed?"

"No," Harry replied firmly. "That's all."

Snape's gaze finally fell upon the bloody sword and the hat; his black eyes widened slightly at the sight of the sword, and then narrowed. "I will consult with the Headmaster. Lockhart, make sure these two stay here until I return."

As Snape stalked away, Harry called after him. "Head_master_? Dumbledore's back?"

Snape paid no heed to Harry's questions and quickly vanished from sight. Exasperated, Harry turned around to find Lockhart aiming a wand at him, a crazy grin on his face.

"Perfect!" Lockhart said excitedly. "I Obliviate both of your memories, claim you two went crazy due to the stress, and I'll show everyone the corpse of the Basilisk that _I_ killed. Of course, I might have to kill Severus as well," Lockhart added thoughtfully.

Harry felt like screaming in frustration. First a Basilisk. Then Riddle. Then the same Basilisk. Now _Lockhart_ wanted to erase their memories and take credit?

Harry was still holding Ginny's wand, and was almost as fast as Lockhart. As Lockhart yelled, "_Obliviate_!" Harry cast the spell that he remembered from the dueling club.

"_Protego_!"

A shimmering shield formed at the end of Ginny's wand, and Lockhart's spell reflected squarely back on the professor: Lockhart flew across the bathroom and slammed against a wall with enough force to crack the tiles. Harry kept the wand up, at the ready, but Lockhart showed no signs of hostility. Instead, he was just mumbling odd things that made little sense.

Still on the watch for any sudden movement, Harry made his way back over to Ginny, who was sitting on the floor and crying silently. Harry sat down next to her and put an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

It was several moments before Snape returned, striding into the bathroom quickly. Snape quickly halted and looked at Lockhart, who was lying on the floor with a wand clutched in his hand mumbling, and Harry, who also had a wand. Finally, he spoke and bestowed upon Harry the only compliment Harry had ever heard the Potions Maser say during his two years at Hogwarts.

"Adequate spellwork, Potter."

_A/N: Found a way for Lockhart to get Obliviated anyway. Next chapter should probably cover the summer and the start of Harry's 3rd year…and perhaps not take as long to post._


	12. A Broom for Bad TImes

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: Very sorry about the wait. I just want to put out here that I'm not going to give up on this story at any time, no matter how long it takes to get a chapter out. Chapter Twelve was going to be longer than this, but I don't have access to some material that I need to write part of the other half for a bit. As a consequence (and a way to get a chapter posted) the shorter version is posted now, with the rest to follow.  
Side note: For some reason the site erases "-" or "-", so previous chapters may be missing breaks in the text. The new way is ooo; when you see that it doesn't mean anything special, just a break.  
_

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter

ooo

**Chapter Twelve: A Broom for Bad Times  
**

It took longer than usual to get to the Headmaster's office, mostly because Ginny .didn't want to go there. When they finally reached the gargoyle, it was open, which meant that Snape had most likely gotten their first and was probably waiting inside. Taking a deep breath, Harry led Ginny up the spiraling staircase and into the office.

Despite all that had happened, Harry felt like smiling when he saw Dumbledore sitting in his high-backed chair, for just the sight of Dumbledore gave him confidence that everything would be all right. Oddly, though, Snape was nowhere to be seen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also there, and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward and engulfed Ginny in a hug as soon as she entered the room. Harry retreated to a chair about ten feet away, feeling out of place in this family reunion. After a minute, Dumbledore folded his hands and looked Harry in the eyes.

"Tell me what happened?" he said simply.

Harry retold the tale, starting from when he received Dumbledore's letter to Ginny and ending right before accidentally Obliviating Lockhart. He hesitated over the parts in which Riddle confirmed that Ginny had been unleashing the snake, and exaggerated her role in taking down the Basilisk. It then took a bit of coaxing, but Ginny told an abbreviated version of her story, mostly just the events leading up to Riddle's near rebirth. Harry felt a jolt when Ginny hesitantly mentioned that Lucius might have slipped her the diary. He remembered an occasion when Lucius would have had the opportunity to slip something into Ginny's possession.

"Back when we were buying supplies in Diagon Alley," Harry interrupted excitedly. "Malfoy picked a book out of Ginny's cauldron, and held it up for a while, and then threw it back in — he could have planted the diary then!"

Right that moment, the door opened and Snape burst it, looking as though he had been sprinting across the castle. He was holding the two halves of the diary.

"Where'd you get that?" Harry demanded. "It was in the Chamber of Secrets. You need to be a Parseltongue to get in there."

"You left it open," Snape said dryly, despite that Harry was pretty sure it had closed behind him. "You might want to look at it, Headmaster," Snape continued, holding the diary out to Dumbledore. He gently took it, looking closely at the blue and black stains on the book. Dumbledore held it up to the light and squinted behind his glasses at it; from the intensity of his examination, Harry was expecting some great revelation.

"A shame," he said finally. "It had such beautiful binding."

Harry blinked at the Headmaster's odd statement, and was going to ask if he could see the diary when Dumbledore spoke again. "Miss Weasley, may I see your scar?"

Ginny tentatively moved forward and pushed down her right sleeve, revealing the nasty — but healed — scar. Dumbledore inspected it just as he had the diary, and this time Harry assumed he was looking for signs of magical poison or something.

"It should be fine," Dumbledore said eventually. "But I am afraid that a scar that was contaminated like this cannot be made to go away. I might recommend —"

Dumbledore was interrupted by the door opening again. This time it was an unhappy-looking McGonagall coming in, with Lucius Malfoy in tow. At Lucius' feet was Dobby the house-elf, whose hands, feet, and legs bandaged. If it wasn't for the fact that Snape hadn't returned Harry's wand, and Harry had given Ginny back her wand, he would have tried to curse Lucius on the spot. As it was, he had to restrain himself from bursting to his feet. He had told Dumbledore what Riddle had said about Lucius; the Headmaster would take care of him.

Lucius did a bit of a double-take when he saw Dumbledore, and then another one when he saw Ginny sitting between her parents. Still, he managed to regain his composure quickly. "Dumbledore," he said slowly. "What a…_surprise_ to see you back in office."

"Not at all, Lucius," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "After the death of Professor Kettleburn, and the abduction of Miss Weasley, the Governors decided it was prudent that I come back to Hogwarts. In fact," Dumbledore added, losing some of his cheerful tone, "more than a few of them were under the impression that they would be cursed by you if they refused to vote me out."

"Ridiculous," Lucius said dismissively. "And what is the Weasley girl doing alive? The last I heard she was killed by Slytherin's heir."

"You sound disappointed," Dumbledore said coolly. "But she was actually possessed by Lord Voldemort," he corrected. "She was forced to make it look like she had been killed, in an attempt to lure Mr. Potter down to the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry noticed only one reaction to what should have been startling news: Lucius gave a small smile. "She will have to stand trial, then for involvement in killing a teacher," Lucius said.

Harry finally understood what was going on. Lucius was still looking for some way to attach a scandal next to Mr. Weasley's name. That was all he cared about in the situation. Dumbledore nodded in response to Lucius. "Yes, she will," he said, and after a moment added, "And so will you."

Lucius inclined his head to the right. "I will certainly be there," Lucius said quickly, "and if called upon I shall testify in whatever manner I can."

"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough," Dumbledore said softly. "Because of the death involved Miss Weasley will have to appear in front of a court, yes. And because you slipped Lord Voldemort's diary into her possessions, you will have to face that."

"I did no such thing," Lucius spat back, composure gone.

"If you have any more of Voldemort's possessions lying around your house," Dumbledore continued, "I suggest that you not hand them out to any more of my students, or we may not need a court to get to the bottom of this."

It was at this point that Harry realized that Dumbledore was angry, very angry. As always, he was in control; however, a chill seemed to be emanating from Dumbledore, a chill that did not go unnoticed on Lucius.

"I'll see you there," Lucius said acidly, and turned on his heel and started to march out. As he kicked Dobby, Harry realized that the elf had known about Lucius' involvement, and had tried to hint about that in previous conversations. He could prove Lucius was guilty! Except that he was still under Lucius' control…

Seized with a sudden idea, Harry rushed over to Dumbledore's desk where the Sorting Hat lay. "May I give this to someone as a present?" Harry asked, glancing significantly to Dobby and back.

Smiling, Dumbledore nodded once. "Certainly."

Grabbing the Sorting Hat, Harry rushed out to the spiral staircase; Lucius and Dobby were half-way down. "Malfoy!" Harry yelled.

As Lucius turned around, Harry threw the hat — again— this time directly at Lucius. The older wizard caught it with his right hand and looked at it in disdain. "What's this?" he said in an annoyed tone.

When Lucius dropped the old, slightly-bloody hat in disgust, Harry discreetly motioned for Dobby to move to the right; the elf scooted a few steps to the right, placing himself under that hat right when Lucius dropped it. The large hat completely enveloped Dobby, and for a moment the elf was hidden from view. Then Dobby hesitantly pushed the brim of the hat up so that he was visible, and wiggled outside of it, looking at the hat in amazement. Then Dobby looked at Lucius.

"Master has given Dobby a hat," the elf said in a trembling voice. "Master has given Dobby clothes. Dobby is free!"

Lucius' gaze snapped from Dobby to Harry as he realized what had just happened. Mouth curling up in a snarl, he started to reach for his wand — and then stopped. Dumbledore had just walked over to the top of the staircase.

"Is everyone all right?" the Headmaster asked happily, looking directly down at Lucius, Dobby, and the hat. "Harry, I see you've given Lucius that hat, and he gave it to his elf. That was most kind of both of you."

"It's not my hat!" Lucius said. "That elf is not free."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said, "as Headmaster of Hogwarts and current owner of the Sorting Hat, I gave it to Harry Potter as a gift. From what I can tell he gave it to you, which made it yours, and you gave it to your elf, which makes him free."

Lucius seemed on the verge of snapping back, but then he closed his mouth, wheeled around, and stalked out. Harry started to turn to Dumbledore, intending to tell him that he could have his hat back, when something hit him in the stomach and knocked him down against the stairs. Looking down, he could see that Dobby had tackled him and was delivering a hug that was crushing Harry.

"It's okay, it's okay," Harry managed to gasp as he pried the elf off of him. "Dobby, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything!" the elf said enthusiastically.

"Testify against Malfoy," Harry said, holding his breath. Dobby had probably been privy to private conversations, possibly something that could clear Ginny and send Lucius away for a long, long time.

The elf hesitated, obviously torn between his promise to do anything and the frightening prospect of testifying against someone who had been his master less than a minute ago. "Dobby will do it," the elf said finally.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore said right as Harry was about to say 'Brilliant'; the Headmaster quickly walked down the stairs. "Dobby, I shall be handling Miss Weasley's side of the case, so if you would be kind enough to head up to my office we will talk soon."

As the elf nodded and vanished with a loud _crack_, Dumbledore focused his attention on Harry. "Very nice work, Harry," Dumbledore said proudly. "Very, very few wizards or witches of your age could have done what you did. Very few. I am very proud of you."

"What's happening to Ginny?" Harry asked, aware that he was blushing at Dumbledore's compliments..

"She will be going back to the Burrow," Dumbledore answered. "Her parents agree that she is in no state for school. Now —"

"I want to go to the Burrow," Harry interjected. "I'm her friend, and I was the one who was down there with her. If anyone can help her, it's me."

Dumbledore studied Harry for a moment before speaking. "You may be right. However, as distasteful as it may be you _must_ spend four weeks at Privet Drive before you leave," the Headmaster decided. "After that, you are free to spend the rest of your summer at the Burrow."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and then realized something. "Um, Professor?" Harry said. "How will I get there?"

* * *

The remainder of school proceeded at a snail's pace for Harry. While he was very happy that Hermione had been successfully un-Petrified, Ginny's absence was very notable. Harry took some solace in the fact that Ron was going through the same thing…but Harry had to wait another month after school ended, and Ron didn't. All of this especially bothered Harry because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't really know what had happened in the Chamber, and the same went for Ron. Only Harry, Ginny and Riddle had been down there, and Riddle was gone.

About a day before the Hogwarts Express was due to arrive, permission slips to visit Hogsmeade Village next year. It was only later, when Harry packed up his invisibility cloak for the ride back to the Dursleys that he realized how much of an opportunity it really was. As Harry rode the train back to platform nine and three-quarters, his unusual eagerness to leave the school and get to the Weasleys' started to fade. By the time he was off the train and riding back to Number Four Privet Drive, he dearly wished he was back at Hogwarts. Even if it was just four weeks, it was horrible going back to the Muggle world — with these Muggles, at any rate. Still, there was one thing he had to do, which was why Harry found himself trying to get his Uncle's attention on a Sunday morning three weeks before Dumbledore said that he would be allowed to go to the Weasleys'.

"What?" Vernon said grumpily; his mood had steadily declined since Harry had returned.

"I need you to sign this," Harry replied, holding out the permission form. Uncle Vernon grabbed it from Harry's hand and started to skeptically started to read it out loud.

"'This document hereby serves to state that' — what the hell is this?"

"It's a summer field trip form," Harry lied. "If you sign it, I get to go away for the rest of the summer starting three weeks from now, so you won't see me for another year."

Vernon snatched up the nearest pen and signed the form without reading the rest of it.

* * *

When Harry said 'starting three weeks from now', apparently his uncle had taken it a bit more literally than Harry had intended, which was why Harry had been kicked — literally — out of the house, with his possessions thrown out after him…sometime around one o' clock in the morning. Because Hermione had mentioned that one spell did not get you in trouble if you used it out of school, Harry muttered, "_Lumos_," and the tip of his wand lit up like a flashlight.

At least he could see now. Feeling slightly foolish, he followed Dumbledore's instructions and thrust his wand up into the air. However, he was carrying Hedwig's cage under his left arm, and the move left him off balance. His foot slipped off the curb he had been standing on, and he fell backwards. Luckily his trunk softened his fall, but he still managed to whack his head on the ground. As he groaned and started to get up, he noticed something on the far side of the park behind him. Something was coming out of the bushes, something big and black with gleaming eyes. Harry scrambled to his feet and snatched up his wand, holding it up high, ready to fight off whatever it was —

With a BANG a giant triple-decker bus appeared out of this air behind him, causing Harry to fall down again. But when he stood up once more, the thing in the bushes was gone. Harry gingerly touched the back of his head and felt something wet; he had cut his head during one of his falls. In a slightly murderous mood, he kicked the sidewalk lightly.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or — turn 'round while I'm talkin' to you, would you?"

Harry whirled around in surprise to find a man of eighteen or nineteen standing on the stairs of the triple-decker that had appeared out of thin air, dressed in a purple uniform. "Who're you?" Harry asked.

"''Oo am I'?" the conductor repeated. "I'm Stan Shunpike. 'Oo're _you_?"

"I'm Ha — Hagrid," Harry said, catching himself before he said his name. Dumbledore has said it was imperative to travel discreetly. "Is this the Knight Bus?"

Stan jerked his head to the left, and Harry followed his motion to the gold lettering on the windshield that said _The Knight Bus_. "Right," Harry said quickly. "I need to go to —"

Suddenly remembering the black thing in the bushes, Harry spun around — and found nothing.

"'Choo lookin' at?" Stan asked.

"D'you see anything over there?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"No," Stan said flatly. "'Ey, woss that on your 'ead?"

"Cut myself when I fell," Harry lied, pulling his bangs down to hide his scar.

"'Choo fall for?"

"I was trying to flag down this stupid bus," Harry snapped, his annoyance with the conductor mixed with the throbbing in his head. "Now can you take me somewhere?"

"Sure," Stan said in a slightly offended voice, "but for the bus comment it'll cost you double. Usually eleven sickles, but for you its —"

Harry grabbed two Galleons from his pocket and shoved them into Stan's hand, not caring that he was paying much more than he should have to. Stan moved back inside the bus, and Harry waited to see if he would come out to help carry his trunk and Hedwig's cage into the bus. He didn't. Ignoring the throbbing in his head, Harry grabbed his luggage and managed to hoist it up onto the Knight Bus.

"The Burrow," Harry said, slightly out of breath.

ooo

"Did you 'ear the news?" Stan asked as the bus rocketed along the streets.

"No," Harry said wearily, trying to think of an even remotely polite way to excuse himself from this conversation.

"No?" Stan said in disbelief. "'Agrid, where you been? Sirius Black's escaped."

"Serious who?" Harry said.

"You never 'eard of Sirius Black?" Stan said in disbelief. "'Ere, read this."

Stan shoved a newspaper into Harry's hands, and then a lit candle. After almost dropping the candle onto the paper and setting it on fire after a sudden jolt, Harry managed to get enough light to read. It was dated two days ago, and had enough folds in it that it had obviously been read many times.

.

**SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPED**

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in the Azkaban fortress, escaped early this morning says the Ministry of Magic._

_"We're still trying to figure out exactly what happened," the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge said this afternoon. "We've never had a breakout before, and the Dementors are good, very good at keeping everyone in line."_

_When asked if the Dementors might have worked with Black, the answer was a resounding no. "The Dementors are firmly under the control of the Ministry of Magic," Fudge said strongly, "and whatever dark magic Black may know he could not turn them."_

_Sources close to the Minister say that he may go as far as to inform the Muggle Prime Minister of Black's escape, as a precaution against another massacre and to increase the chance of his recapture. Many witches and wizards tonight are remembering those thirteen killed by that single curse twelve years ago, and anyone with information should contact the Ministry of Magic immediately._

.

Harry lowered the paper and looked at the picture of Black that was featured above it. The man looked either dead or on the verge of dying, yet there was something about him that Harry couldn't place, something that made him look formidable even as a gaunt, skeletal prisoner trapped in Azkaban.

"_Thirteen_ people with a single curse?" Harry asked with a small amount of disbelief.

"In broad daylight," Stan confirmed. "'E was a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo, thought e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad took over. But when 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo, 'e went crazy or something. 'E went out into the street and blasted 'alf of it apart, an' a wizard got it along with dozen Muggles. Know what 'e did then, 'Agrid?"

A few seconds passed while Harry waited for someone else to respond before remembering that he had taken Hagrid's name up as an alias. "No, what?" Harry asked curiously.

"'E _laughed_," Stan whispered. "'E just laughed an' laughed until reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there — and then 'e just went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'E's mad."

* * *

The rest of the ride lasted another minute or so, and only one house had to jump out of the way. When the bus finally jerked to a stop and the doors opened, Harry grabbed his things and hurried out. Harry wasn't quite sure how long the ride had taken or how far he had traveled, but it wasn't quite light out, save for the illumination provided by the moon. Looking around he spotted the Burrow, and walked as fast as he could manage towards it. Finally he made it to the front door, where he set down his trunk and owl cage and knocked on the door with his left hand, rubbing his forehead with his right. He figured that the bumpy bus ride must not have done his head injury any good, because it was hurting worse than before.

Thirty seconds passed, and Harry was on the verge of knocking again when the door opened a bit, revealing a sleepy-looking Mr. Weasley. Upon seeing Harry he opened the door all the way and ushered Harry inside.

"Harry, what're you doing here today?" Mr. Weasley asked, a surprised look on his face.

"What am I doing here today?" Harry repeated, feeling more confused that Mr. Weasley, because he knew that Dumbledore had told the Weasleys that he would be arriving.

"Yes, and where's your Auror?" Mr. Weasley added.

"My Auror?" Harry repeated again. "What's an Auror — and what're you talking about?"

"Didn't you get the letter?" Mr. Weasley said. "Due to certain dangerous…events…recently, you were to wait another day until a guard from Ministry could take you over here. We sent the letter by Muggle mail to avoid attracting attention."

The pieces clicked together for Harry. Uncle Vernon would have been the person to receive the letter, and Harry had a strong suspicion that the reason he had been kicked out of the house so early was so that he _wouldn't_ get any protection.

"Might have been a mail problem," Harry said evasively. "Was the problem Sirius Black? The conductor on the Knight Bus told me about him."

It was Mr. Weasley's turn to be evasive. "That could have been a factor, yes. Anyway, I'm glad you're here, Harry. Do you need something for your head?" he added, just noticing Harry's injury.

"I'm fine," Harry said slightly untruthfully. "How's Ginny?"

"Hopefully better now that you're here," Mr. Weasley said with a grave expression on his face. "She hasn't been talking to any of us much, but I think having someone who was down there with her might help. I tried to persuade Professor Dumbledore to let you come here earlier, but he was very adamant about four weeks."

Harry was taken aback by this statement. While he had expected that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would welcome him, he also thought that his idea that he might be able to help Ginny might be rejected by her parents. Apparently he thought wrong.

"Right," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "It's about two-thirty, so I guess if you can find a place for me to sleep I can wait until it's morning — well, it _is_ the morning, I guess, but I mean when people wake up."

"You don't have to wait that long to talk to her," Mr. Weasley said as he padded towards the stairs that would lead him back to bed. "Ginny's still awake."

* * *

Harry found Ginny sitting cross-legged in front of a pond in the garden behind the house. The nearly full moon was shining at the right angle to completely illuminate her, and he could see that she was wearing long, black robes that covered the scar she had acquired less than two months ago. Harry walked over to her, making sure to make enough noise so that she wouldn't be startled by his appearance, and then sat down next to her. Ginny had shown no reaction to someone walking over to her, but when she saw that it was Harry sit down her eyes widened slightly.

"Harry?" Ginny said in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," Harry replied jokingly. "Apparently I got here a bit early."

Ginny inclined her head to the left as she studied Harry's head, which was hurting enough to make Harry wish he had taken up Mr. Weasley's offer. "I fell when I was flagging down the Knight Bus to come over here," Harry said by way of explanation. "I saw this big black dog-thing, and I freaked out — and fell. Felt pretty stupid."

Ginny nodded and looked away, looking at the surface of the pond so intently that there was no doubt she was avoiding looking in Harry's direction. "How're you doing?" Harry asked carefully, feeling completely awkward and unsure of what to do.

"Fine," Ginny so quickly that Harry was sure she was lying. A moment passed in which no one spoke, before Ginny blurted out, "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"Everything," Ginny said. "You killed Riddle, you killed the Basilisk, and you got through it without a scratch. Without being afraid."

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he searched for the proper way to respond. "I _was_ afraid, Ginny," Harry said softly. "I thought the Basilisk was going to kill me and I thought the teenage Voldemort was going to kill me — come on Ginny, don't flinch," Harry said, for Ginny gave the usual witch or wizard's reaction to hearing the Dark Lord's name. "You've said his name before."

By way of response Ginny stood up suddenly. "I'm going to bed," she said, and started to walk away. Harry scrambled to his feet and grabbed one of her hands, stopping her; Ginny halted and turned around to look at Harry.

"Ginny, you didn't do anything wrong," Harry said earnestly. "You didn't kill anyone. You didn't Petrify anyone. You didn't lure me into a trap, and you weren't responsible for almost reviving Voldemort. That was Lucius Malfoy, not you."

Ginny looked at Harry, studying his face for a moment. "That's nice of you to say," she said with the first smile he had seen since the Chamber. "Now I really gotta go to bed, Harry."

She tugged her hand out of Harry's, meeting no resistance on his part. Ginny walked back into the house, but Harry just stood there outside for a moment, breathing the fresh air. Harry knew that he probably hadn't accomplished a whole lot, but that one smile made the whole trip worth it.

ooo

Harry woke to something hitting him on the head, hard, right where he had hurt himself early in the morning. At first he thought Dudley was in the room, but then he remembered he was staying in Ron's room at the Burrow. Ron had been sound asleep when Harry had gone to bed just before three in the morning, but after yanking on his glasses and identifying the person who had whacked him on the head, he could tell Ron was awake now.

"What're you doing here?" Ron exclaimed, still holding the pillow that had bounced off of Harry's head a moment ago.

"_Everyone_'s asking me that," Harry said with a groan. "And why'd you hit me? Don't you see that cut on my head? It's just been getting worse since I got here."

"Sorry," Ron said without sounding very apologetic, "but you could have told me you were coming early."

"I didn't _know_," Harry said irritably. "The Dursleys never gave me the letter telling me to wait for someone to pick me up. Now if you're finished hitting me, how about some breakfast?"

"Lunch," Ron corrected. "It's the afternoon."

Harry rolled out of his bed and groggily stumbled over to his trunk, where his fresh clothes were. "How's Ginny been?" Harry asked in a forced casual voice. He had heard a bit from Mr. Weasley, but he wanted to know from Ron's perspective.

"She's doing fine," Ron said.

Harry stopped in the middle of pulling his old shirt off and turned to face Ron. "What did you say?" Harry asked.

"She's doing fine," Ron repeated. "I mean, she's not very talkative or active, but it was probably a bit scary down there in the Chamber, so she'll get over it soon."

Harry took a moment to try and make what Ron said rational before responding. "Ron, doesn't Ginny usually talk a lot? And try to be involved in everything?"

Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Well, yeah, but —"

"And it was 'probably a bit scary down there'? Ron, she was about ten seconds away from _dying_. And I think that she thinks that she's responsible for everything that Voldemort did when — come _on_ Ron, you've heard his name a thousand times — when he was possessing her."

"But she wasn't responsible," Ron said.

"No, but she _thinks_ she is," Harry retorted, "and since no one knows exactly what went on between her and Riddle, she's all by herself in some ways, don't you think?"

Ron didn't respond to that, and Harry hoped he had gotten the message across.

* * *

Ginny wasn't quite as bad as Harry had feared she would be, and he chalked that up to her being one tough person. When Mrs. Weasley called everyone down, up, or inside for lunch, Ginny did come — she just didn't really talk to anyone. So Harry, who had absolutely no experience in the subject of trying to bring someone back to normal after an event like last year's, decided to measure progress in meals.

His first week at the Burrow relating to Ginny was basically following her everywhere she went. The garden and Ginny's room seemed to be her two places that she wanted to be, and while of course Harry didn't follow her into her room, he did accompany her on walks around the Weasley property, managing to grab some conversation out of the deal. And by the end of his first week, when he was sitting next to Ginny at the table, he could hold a conversation with her.

But when Charlie Weasley came to visit, Harry knew there was still something very wrong. The older Weasley brother had brought his Comet 260, and when combined with the twins' pair of Cleansweep Fives and Harry's Nimbus 2000, that made a total of four brooms — enough for a very simple and modified version of Quidditch. Ron and Ginny didn't have brooms, but Harry figured they could rotate, bringing in Ron and Ginny and bringing out Fred, George, or Harry himself, allowing them to all have a chance to play together.

Except Ginny didn't want to play. It was a beautiful day, everyone was ready to go, and as far as Harry could tell nothing bad had happened. It was right then, standing outside listening to Fred and George complaining that there weren't enough people to have Beaters in the game, that Harry made a decision. If Ginny didn't want to play Quidditch, then there was _definitely_ something really wrong, and Harry could think of a solution. Yes, besides Hedwig it had been his one real attachment to the magic world while locked away, but there was someone else who needed it more than he did. Harry dashed inside, took the stairs up to Ron's room two at a time, and grabbed his Nimbus 2000, which was lying on his bed in preparation for a bit of flying. He grabbed it from the bed and started to carefully bring it out of the room, being careful not to whack it on anything. It was only a few steps on the spiraling stairs down to Ginny's room; Harry knocked on the door loudly with his free hand.

When there was no response, Harry raised his voice so that Ginny could hear him through the door. "Ginny? It's Harry. Can I come in?"

Harry thought he heard a yes, so he opened the door a bit. When no one rushed over to slam it closed, he opened it all the way and walked in. Ginny was sitting on her bed, reading a book. She hardly looked up until he dropped the Nimbus down on the bed in front of her.

Ginny put down the book, looked at the broom and then at Harry. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I still don't want to play."

"You don't have to," Harry said. "It'd be nice if you would, but you don't have to. Happy early Birthday."

Ginny looked at the broom for a long moment, and Harry could practically hear her mind trying to process the situation. "Wait," she said slowly. "Are you —"

"Giving you a birthday present?" Harry interjected. "It's a bit early, but I figured it's a real nice today to do some flying."

"You need this," Ginny insisted. "For the Gryffindor team."

"I can get another when we get to Diagon Alley," Harry countered. "Plus, with this you'll be great on the team next year — assuming you still want to join."

Ginny was nodding her head distractedly, looking at the broom. "There's one condition, though," Harry said.

His friend's head snapped up to face him, and Harry felt like laughing; despite all the reservations, it was obvious she was in love with the broom. "What is it?" Ginny asked.

"Stop blaming yourself," Harry said. "As someone who was down there in the Chamber, and who saw the aftermath of Riddle's work, I know it's not your fault. _Anyone_ in your situation would have done what you did — if I had found that diary, I would have been manipulated in the same way. Any kid at Hogwarts our age would have. Lucius Malfoy singled you out, and it's _his_ fault, and you know what? At that trial he's insisting on we're gonna make sure he goes to Azkaban for a long, long time."

Harry gave Ginny a moment to think on that before continuing. "Now," Harry said, "d'you want this broom or not?"

Ginny didn't move for at least two minutes, and Harry was starting to think that she was going to give the broom back to him when she stood up, grabbed the Nimbus, and smiled — a real, genuine smile. "Let's go play Quidditch," Ginny said, and walked quickly out the door.

Harry smiled, feeling the best he had this entire trip. He may have just put himself in a situation where he'd have to pay hundreds or thousands of Galleons for a replacement broom, but if he didn't know it he would have said he had won a million.

ooo

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for their feedback, as it is really encouraging. I'll do my best to get the next chapter out ASAP.  
_


	13. A New Problem

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: I may change who's perspective this is being told from frequently throughout the chapter, so I apologize for any confusion. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

ooo

**Chapter Thirteen: A New Problem**

Harry and Ron sat out the first round of Quidditch, and stood below the game, watching the players zoom around in the sky. Two Chasers and no designated Keeper was how they were playing it, which made for an interesting mix. Harry lost track of the score a long time ago, and was instead watching Ginny. She really was an excellent flyer, and her performance would have been amazing if she had been demonstrating any respect for rules at the moment. Using the Quaffle as a Bludger and the tail of the Nimbus as the Beater's bat, she nearly knocked George off of his Cleansweep, among other things. Seeing her laughing and flying rings around the older brooms, Harry wasn't regretting his decision to give up his broom even for a second.

ooo

And then, during what should be the fun-filled summer month of August, it was time for the trial. Although it was actually officially a hearing into the events at Hogwarts during the 1992/1993 school year, everyone was calling it the trial because Dumbledore had made it clear that a scapegoat was being looked for, and Ginny was a perfect target.

When Dumbledore had announced that he would be handling the Weasley's side of the hearing, Harry had initially been elated that the headmaster was taking care of the situation. But as the weeks dragged on, Dumbledore did not return to the Burrow, and Harry heard nothing about any communication between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore. The best thing that could be said about the week preceding the hearing was that Hermione came over, making the group of four friends complete. But nothing, not even the sight of Hermione trying to participate in what would usually be a fun and relaxing Quidittch game, could improve anyone's mood the night before the hearing.

ooo

As expected Dumbledore did not show up at the Burrow the next morning, so Ginny, Harry and Mr. Weasley used Floo powder to Diagon Alley — Harry ended up in the right place this time — and then walked to the London Underground. After his trip on the Knight Bus Harry was pretty sure that the enchanted triple-decker could get them to their destination much more easily, but one glance at Mr. Weasley's constant inspection of even the most mundane Muggle appliances revealed the real reason they were taking this route. Harry noticed that Ginny was fidgeting nervously, and then realized that _he_ was a little nervous himself. Although both Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley had assured him that he wasn't in any danger, they had also made it clear that Harry would be influential in helping the Weasleys — Ginny — get through this unscathed.

As they all crowded into a telephone booth that Mr. Weasley claimed would take them down to the Ministry, Harry unconsciously ruffled his hair a bit. In desperation, after multiple failed attempts to comb his hair, Mrs. Weasley had taken a pair of scissors to it in an attempt to make it a little neater. While Harry had no doubt that the haircut would vanish with the speed of all his previous haircuts, it would last for the time being; just one more thing to make him uncomfortable about this whole deal.

On the way down he picked up his badge — _Harry Potter, Formal Inquiry_ — and almost forgot why they were there. The main hall of the Ministry was marvelous, with a group of five statues of magical beings catching his eye. On the way to a security booth where they would hand over their wands Harry saw a sign that announced that proceeds from coins tossed into the fountain would be given to St. Mungo's Hospital, and vowed to donate if this all ended up all right.

The choice of where to hold the inquiry could have been worse, according to Mr. Weasley. Because this was more serious than a regular matter involving an underage wizard or witch, it would not take place in the more relaxed settings that were used for matters such as underage magic out of school. On the other hand, Mr. Weasley had made reference to more frightening and strict courts, so it wasn't horrible.

The room was quite odd in Harry's opinion A perfect circle, it gently inclined up starting at the outer edges so that the floor at the center of the room was higher than the floor anyone else: the witness chair was there. Raised seats for onlookers were at the back, and directly opposite those seats were where Minister Fudge and the jury sat. Harry knew little about Fudge, but from Dumbledore he had learned that Fudge wanted to be on good terms with Harry — although that most likely stemmed from a political position rather than a personal one.

Besides Harry, Ginny and Mr. Weasley, there weren't a whole lot of people in the room. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were there, along with Lucius Malfoy and — looking utterly terrified — Dobby. Harry was surprised that he didn't see any of the attack victims, but when Fudge started the proceedings he understood why. Dumbledore started a narration of the events during the course of the year, and turned the stand over to McGonagall for when he was absent. After Dumbledore had finished explaining everything but what Harry and Ginny were to say, he handed over three written statements.

"These are from the three students who were attacked," Dumbledore said as he put the documents in front of Fudge. "They saw so little that I judged it would be pointless and possibly harmful to bring them here."

After reading the three short letters Fudge grudgingly agreed, and passed them on to a wizard who sat next to him. And then it was Harry's turn.

Even though Harry wasn't in any danger, walking up to that raised chair felt incredibly frightening and difficult; he could only imagine what it would feel like to Ginny. When he sat down in the chair he fidgeted nervously, not comforted by the warm smile Fudge gave him.

When it got the part where Harry was hearing the Basilisk inside the walls, several eyebrows rose. "You're — you're a Parseltongue?" Fudge asked almost nervously. When Harry nodded, the Minister said, "I suppose we need proof. Can you — can you do it?"

Harry nodded, and tried to conger up the image of a snake in his head. At first there were too many images swirling around, but as he concentrated he managed to conjure up the image of a snake inside his head. "_Can_ _you understand me?_" Harry hissed tentatively; by the startled looks on almost everyone's face, Harry figured that he had indeed spoken in Parseltongue. This was a very good thing, because it added some credibility to his story about hearing voices in the wall. The sticky point came when they reached Harry entering the Chamber.

"So," a witch who seemed to be leading the charge against Harry said. "You managed to defeat a giant serpent that can kill with its eyes alone and what was supposedly a reincarnation of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — _without a wand_?"

"Well, I had Ginny Weasley's wand at the end," Harry said, "and I had a sword. And a sorting hat…but didn't Professor Dumbledore go over this part already? Y'know, with the phoenix?"

"Oh, of course," the witch said. "You had a hat. _That _explains everything."

After another few minutes of badgering, Fudge sent Harry back to sit with Mr. Weasley, and Ginny was sent up. Although she was visibly nervous, she managed to keep her strides even and measured. Harry was impressed that she was able to walk up there less shakily than he had, but he was still worried; Fudge had held back on Harry, but the Minister had no particular need to be on good terms with Ginny Weasley. After Ginny had sat down, Fudge looked at his notes, which were a hastily-scribbled down copy of what Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Harry had said.

"You are Ginevra Molly Weasley, correct?" Fudge asked. When Ginny nodded, Fudge went on. "Miss Weasley, sometime between the start of the summer and the start of your year at Hogwarts did you come into possession of a book that was not on your school list?"

"I came into possession of several books," Ginny said defiantly. "I like to read."

Fudge closed his eyes for a few seconds before continuing. "At Flourish and Blotts, when you were purchasing your school supplies, did you come into possession of a 'black diary with gold binding'?" Fudge restated, quoting the description from what Harry had said.

"If by 'came into possession' you mean that Lucius Malfoy slipped it into my bag, then yes," Ginny said, with a significant glance in Lucius' direction.

Someone next Fudge scribbled down what Ginny was saying, and Fudge returned to what appeared to be a list of questions.

"When you arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, did you intentionally unleash a monster and direct it to attack Muggle-borns?"

"No," Ginny answered, looking caught off-guard by the question.

"Did you open the Chamber of Secrets so that a monster could go on a rampage?" Fudge pressed.

"No," Ginny repeated, now looking as if she wanted to curse Fudge.

"Did you bring something to Hogwarts and try to blame everything on the previous Chamber of Secrets incident?"

"_No_."

"If he was indeed involved, did you let You-Know-Who inhabit your body so you would be able to kill Muggle-borns, such as the late Professor Kettleburn?" Fudge insisted, pushing Ginny past her limit.

Ginny stared at Fudge for a few seconds, before she softly said, "Sod off."

Fudge's eye's bulged in outrage, and sensing danger Dumbledore quickly strode forward, walking right up to where the Minister sat. Fudge looked furious, and was whispering violently in a heated conversation with the Headmaster. This continued for a good half minute before Fudge finally stopped arguing and gave an exasperated nod of his head; he then cleared his throat and spoke to the room. "Everybody," Fudge started, "but Mr. Malfoy, Headmaster Dumbledore, the elf Dobbins, and of course my fellow wizard and witches up her should leave. Immediately."

ooo

Harry stood outside the closed door with Ginny, a comforting arm around her shoulders. Her father was a few feet away, and he had no idea where Professor McGonagall had gone.

"Think about it this way," Harry said in an attempt to cheer Ginny up. "How many people have told the Minister of Magic to sod off?"

"Nobody smart," Ginny said gloomily. "Even if it doesn't make a difference today, I may have made one of the worst enemies possible."

Harry didn't really have much of a reply for that. Fudge was in a position to make things miserable for the Weasley family, although Dumbledore would surely not allow anyone from the Ministry meddle in Hogwarts matters.

The time went on, until they had been waiting over an hour. Suddenly the doors burst open, and Dumbledore strode out. He started walking towards the lift, and motioned for the Weasleys and Harry to follow.

"What happened?" Harry asked, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"Not here," the Headmaster said, and made room for the other people to fit in the lift. "When we get out of the Ministry."

As the group walked past the fountain on their way out of the Ministry, Harry paused by the fountain and emptied the contents of his pockets into the fountain. St. Mungos would be twelve Galleons — and few pieces of lint — richer.

ooo

"Fudge was under great pressure," Dumbledore said in front of a roaring fire in the Burrow. "On one hand, Dobby managed to tell exactly what Lucius Malfoy did, and you were supporting Dobby's story, Harry — and Fudge wants to support you. On the other hand, Malfoy is a great contributor to the Ministry, donating both to it and to the Minister himself. Minister Fudge needed a compromise, and neither side wanted one."

"So he let Malfoy off with a slap on the wrist?" Harry said with both eyebrows raised. "After what he did?"

"A fine of ten thousand galleons and a day in a low-security wizarding prison may not seem like much," Dumbledore replied, "but it is a _tremendous_ loss of prestige for Lucius. For him it was more than a slap on the wrist."

"And I'm fine?" Ginny asked for the fourth time.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her. "Yes, you are. You will resume your studies at Hogwarts along with all the other students. No restrictions. Now," Dumbledore added, looking at Mrs. Weasley, "if I could have just a little bit of that delicious pie in the kitchen before I go, that would be wonderful."

That night there was a celebration of sorts at the Burrow, with all the family there — plus Harry and Hermione. While no one was happy that Lucius got away with what still seemed like a slap on the wrist, Ginny was free to return to Hogwarts come September. Mrs. Weasley had taken a trip to Gringotts about half an hour after everyone return to the Burrow, and the dinner table was full of the best food that she could find; Harry had tagged along to Diagon Alley on the pretense of keeping Mrs. Wealsey company, and had spent a few Galleons at Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had discovered that that shop was not averse to renting Quidditch supplies short-term in return for a fair fee. Harry returned with two Cleansweep Sevens and a set of enchanted Bludgers and a Golden Snitch. Several enjoyable games were played with Harry and Charlie Weasley as Seekers, Fred and George as opposing Beaters, and Ron and Ginny vying for control of the Quaffle as the only two Chasers; there were no Keepers in their modified way of playing.

As Harry was finishing the pie that Mrs. Weasley had made, only half listening to the general conversation, he remembered something that he had wondered about last year: his father. Harry had wanted to ask someone if James Potter had any living friends, and Mr. Weasley seemed like a good candidate. Harry found his opening immediately after dinner when Mr. Weasley retired to a comfortable chair with the morning's _Daily Prophet_, which he apparently hadn't gotten a chance to read yet.

"Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked tentatively, walking up to his chair. "Can I ask you a question?"

Mr. Weasley put the newspaper down and looked at Harry. "Of course," he said good-naturedly. "What's on your mind?"

"I was wondering if any of my dad's friends were still around," Harry asked, forcing his voice to be casual despite the excitement he was feeling.

Mr. Weasley's good cheer vanished in an instant, and his eyes darted around the room as if to check if they were alone, which they were. "Why do you ask that?" he said suspiciously.

"I just wanted to talk to someone about him," Harry said, mystified by Mr. Weasley's reaction.

The older wizard relaxed slightly, but he still looked very cautious about this conversation. "You haven't heard anything?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"About what?" Harry inquired.

"Never mind," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head. "Now, what did you say again?"

"I asked if any of my dad's friends are still around for me to talk to," Harry repeated. "Or my mum's," he added.

Mr. Weasley was looking rather flustered, and stood up. "I'll look into it," he promised. "Now, maybe you should finish up what you're doing and go to bed. How does that sound?"

ooo

Half an hour after the mystifying conversation Harry was lying in bed, listening to Ron's snores. He had no opportunity to talk to any of his friends about what Mr. Weasley might have been talking about that night. Ron and Ginny were dead-tired from Quidditch, and Hermione had taken the first opportunity to go to bed, obviously regretting agreeing to referee the game. It had been a challenge beating Charlie, but the former Seeker had been out of practice. Harry's team had won by a large margin, thanks to Ginny. Especially with Harry's former Nimbus 2000 she ran circles around Ron, and while Ginny showed to compunctions about swooping by Fred at such speeds that he nearly fell off his broom, it was obvious that her brother didn't have the heart to whack the Bludger in her direction. Poor Hermione, trying to keep track of the game from the ground, was hit by several mishit Bludgers and a temporarily out of control Ginny; Harry figured that they had effectively ruined any chance of her ever playing Quidditch that evening.

Taking off his glasses and pulling the sheets up to his chin, Harry remembered that just over a year ago he lying on this same bed, asking Ron if Ginny ever played Quidditch and wondering if they would all be friends at school. Harry knew that Hogwarts meant a lot to Ginny, and he was determined to make this year a good one, the way the previous one should have been. He had one plan that was would get him into trouble if he was caught, but even if he did it would be worth it. What were friends for, anyway?

ooo

Several weeks, a cat named Crookshanks, school supplies and a new Nimbus 2000 for Harry later it was the day before they would pile into the new and recently enchanted car that Mr. Weasley had been given as compensation during the hearing to replace the one that currently was roaming the Forbidden Forest. The amount of delays and returns to the Burrow (to fetch forgotten items) was as great as last year, but there was no stopping back for a forgotten diary — and it wasn't lost on many members of the Weasley clan that if they hadn't turned back for Tom Riddle's diary, none of the events of the previous school year would have occurred.

When they got to King's Cross and the magic platform Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione went through first. They had decided that one parent would accompany each group of kids, just in case something similar to Dobby's closing of the wall occurred again.

When it came time for Ginny to run through, she hesitated before she was supposed to begin her run, and then stopped. Harry was on the verge of saying something when she took a deep breath and charged through the wall, vanishing and presumably appearing on the other side.

Harry was about to run through the barrier when Mr. Weasley put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Harry looked up questioningly at Mr. Weasley, who motioned for him to step away from the barrier and towards a slightly secluded spot where the Muggle traffic was low. Harry checked his watch: they had ten minutes before the train would leave, meaning he had plenty of time.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley began, "I would like to ask you to promise me two things. I'm talking to you here because I don't want other wizards or witches to hear us."

Harry nodded, more curious that concerned.

"Good," Mr. Weasley said. "The first is something that I've already said to Fred and George, but I think it would be best to tell you this as well. Be on the lookout for Draco Malfoy."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You don't think he'd be out for revenge because of what happened to his father?"

"I think Lucius Malfoy _might _have given Draco instructions to hurt Ginny — not physically, necessarily, but all the same. Please watch out for her."

Harry bobbed his head in agreement, wondering why Mr. Weasley hadn't told Ron about this as well — or if he had, for that matter. "And the other thing?" Harry asked.

Mr. Weasley's expression became even graver, and he spoke in a voice hardly louder that a whisper. "I can't explain much, Harry," he started, "and there are many in the Ministry — or at Hogwarts — who would not want me to tell you this much. You must keep want I say in the strictest confidence, Harry. Don't tell _anyone._"

Harry felt some hair prickling on the back of his neck, and he swallowed. "Okay."

"Good," Mr. Weasley said. "Now, you've seen the news about Sirius Black in the papers, do doubt. I can't tell you what he did —"

"I know that he killed all those Muggles and that wizard," Harry interrupted.

"— But," Mr. Weasley continued, "before breaking out of Azkaban, Black was heard reciting, 'He's at Hogwarts.'"

"Black was one of Voldemort's biggest supporter's, right?" Harry said. "Is he going after me?"

Mr. Weasley didn't flinch at Voldemort's name, but his frown deepened. "Maybe," Mr. Weasley said. "But I want you to promise me something, Harry."

"Stay in the castle and away from Black?" Harry guessed.

"No," Mr. Weasley said. "Don't go _looking_ for Black, no matter what you hear, understand me? Don't go looking for him."

"Why would I want to go looking for someone who's trying to kill me?" Harry asked, but Mr. Weasley was shepherding him towards the fake wall.

"No more time to talk," Mr. Weasley said, although they had a good five minutes until Harry would want to board the train.

ooo

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione found an empty compartment on the train, which Harry considered a stroke of good luck. In the compartment opposite to them a man in ragged clothes — who Hermione had identified as Professor R. J. Lupin by the inscription on his trunk — was asleep, and it appeared students were trying to avoid a teacher. An empty compartment was a good thing, because it was pretty easy to see that Ginny was not going to be in for a trouble-free year. Except for the first-years, who knew either nothing or almost nothing about the Chamber of Secret incident, conversations seemed to dry up when Ginny walked past; it was reminiscent of when people had suspected Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin.

"They'll forget about it in a week," Ron assured his sister as the train started to move. "Who cares about that anymore?"

"I do," Ginny said, "and if they've remembered it all summer, they won't forget it in a week."

"It'll be okay," Harry tried. "They'll have other things on their minds, what with Sirius Black headed for Hog —"

All three heads snapped around to look at Harry, who winced inwardly; he had not told anyone about what Mr. Weasley had said yet.

"Sirius Black is headed for Hogwarts?" Ron said. "How do you know that?"

"That's probably what your dad told him before we got on the train," Hermione responded for Harry. "What, you didn't realize Harry was gone?"

"He's heading for you, isn't he?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "Your dad told me that Black sounded like he was heading for Hogwarts, but I got the feeling he wasn't telling me everything."

"Why?" Ginny said.

"Because he told me not to go _looking_ for Black, no matter what I hear," Harry replied. "It makes you wonder, though, doesn't it? What is it that he's afraid that I might hear? What could I hear that would make me want to go looking for someone who wants to kill me?"

No one had an answer.

The train had been moving for no more than half a minute, and as Harry was looking out the window he saw a large black thing hurtling from the ground to the train. At the speed the train was going he quickly lost sight of it, but it looked like something was trying to get on the train.

"Did you see that?" Harry demanded.

"See what?" Hermione asked.

"That thing which just jumped onto the train?"

Hermione and Ginny shook their heads, and Ron shrugged. "Probably just imagined it because you're hungry," he said despite the fact that Harry had eaten a huge breakfast courtesy of Mrs. Weasley no more than two hours ago. "Say," Ron continued, "the trolley should be coming around soon. We could get some food then."

ooo

About an hour later Harry was feeling sick to his stomach. Ron had maneuvered him into buying enough sweets for ten people, which Hermione and Ginny had only sampled. Actually, Harry hadn't eaten many of them either, but watching Ron eat the remainder killed Harry's appetite for the day.

"How can you eat that much?" Hermione asked, apparently as appalled as Harry.

"He's always been like that," Ginny said sadly. "I don't —"

Ginny didn't get to finish her sentence, because at that instance the train slammed to a sudden halt. The stop was so violent that Harry was nearly thrown from his seat, and Ginny — who weighed considerably less than anyone else in the compartment — went flying, landing on the floor.

As Harry helped her up, he tried to look through the window, but it was suddenly frosted over. "What's going on?" Harry said just as all the lights went out.

The Hogwarts Express, which usually had a merry feeling associated with it, was transformed in an instant. The windows were no covered with thick ice and no light was let in; it was pitch black in the train, and now it was freezing. No one was talking, and the train had the air of a graveyard. Hermione took out her wand and muttered, "_Lumos_," and there was some illumination in the compartment. The other three students copied her, and now they could see a bit — but it was still freezing.

ooo

This wasn't quite how Ginny wanted to start her new year at Hogwarts. The reactions of the other students she had expected, and despite what she had said to Ron she honestly did believe that she would have a chance at a normal school year.

But she was feeling about as bad right now as she had since getting out of the Chamber. She knew something was coming, something bad.

Ginny's fears were confirmed about half a minute later. The four of them were keeping watch, both out the windows of their compartment and through the clear glass near the door, which they had closed and latched. But it wasn't any kind of latch that was magically protected, it was just a deadbolt, and it suddenly clicked open, even though no one had put a hand on it. And a moment later the Dementor arrived.

Ginny knew what they looked like from descriptions and drawings, but they did not justice to the real thing. Covered in a ragged black cloak, it floated into the room; all the lighted wands flickered out. It turned its cloaked head towards Ginny, and without any warning she blacked out.

ooo

Ginny was in her room at the Burrow, sitting on her bed. At first she thought that it was all a bad dream and she hadn't left for Hogwarts yet, but then she noticed that there was someone else in the room.

Tom Riddle, looking just as he had before Harry sliced the diary in half, was leaning back against one of her walls with his arms crossed. "Hello, Ginevra," Riddle said casually. "It has been quite a while since we last talked."

Ginny opened her mouth to talk but found it dry. Closing it she swallowed, staring at Riddle with wide eyes. Harry had gotten rid of him, she knew he had, he couldn't be back.

"You're not real," Ginny said. She wanted to stand up, told her body to run away, but she was paralyzed. "This is just all in my head."

"No," Riddle said, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards Ginny. "We are in your head, but of course I'm real. Or have you forgotten that much?"

"The diary was chopped in half," Ginny insisted. "You're _not_."

Riddle shook his head and Ginny felt her belief that her situation was a dream start to resolve. "You should know better than to think that the diary was me, my dear," he said. "I shall make sure that you remember that fact."

Riddle crossed the room in an instant and seized her right arm, pushing up her sleeve so that the scar on her arm was visible. Ginny tried to pull free, but his grip on her arm was hard enough that she was sure it would leave marks. Riddle looked her in the eyes and smiled, and the smile frightened Ginny because it was that of a sane man —

— And Ginny was lying on the floor of the compartment, the lights back on and the temperature back to normal. Someone forced something into her hand and gently patted her face. "Eat this," someone she didn't know said. "It'll help."

Still disoriented, Ginny took a bite out of what she had been given and was pleasantly surprised to find out that she was eating chocolate.

"Is goo cholate, n't?" another person said. It took Ginny a second before she realized that Ron was saying that the chocolate was good — with his mouth full, of course.

"You okay?" Harry asked; Ginny was still confused enough that she couldn't tell where he was. "Here, let's get up."

She felt Harry put an arm around her shoulder and help lift her up to a standing position, and then deposited her back on the seat. Ginny blinked a few times, and the world came back into focus. The lights were back on, the train was moving, and now there were five people in the compartment. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the opposite side of the compartment, Harry was sitting next to her, and the man who had given her the chocolate was standing in the middle of the compartment, wand out; she now recognized him as the formerly sleeping Professor Lupin.

"What — what happened?" Ginny stammered. The meeting with Riddle when she had blacked out had stirred up some nasty memories from the Chamber of Secrets incident, and everything seemed to be happening to fast for her.

"Dementors," Lupin said gravely. "They were searching the train for Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black on the Hogwarts Express?" Ron said with his eyebrows raised. "Are they barking mad?"

"Dementors are neither mad nor sane," Lupin said. "If they were in the area the train was too attractive a target for them to pass up."

"Dementors are the guards of Azkaban, right?" Harry said, and Ginny remembered he didn't know as much about these matters as most other people on the train did.

"Normally," Lupin said. "Right now they're hunting Black."

"Did I faint?" Ginny asked. There was a general nodding of heads in the compartment, and Ginny felt ashamed.

"There's no reason to feel bad about it," Lupin said, sensing what Ginny was feeling. "The Dementor came right at you."

"Yeah," Harry affirmed. "He was going straight for you. I saw that, and then I, uh, blacked out too."

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione. "Did you two…?"

Ron shook his head. "Felt scared though. Like I'd never be happy again. Hey, and at least you have a reason for fainting. Harry just — ow!"

Harry semi-good naturedly kicked Ron in the shin, and Ginny smiled. She brought up her right hand to brush some hair out of her face, and froze. In the exact spots where Riddle had grabbed her when she had blacked out, there were bruises that would correspond with someone gripping her arm as hard as he did. But that was impossible, because it had just been imaginary. A mini-nightmare. There was a logical explanation, there had to be.

"Did the Dementor touch me?" Ginny asked almost hopefully.

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Lupin did something with his wand — was it a Patronus charm? — that made it go away."

Ginny tuned out Hermione questioning Lupin and looked down at the bruises on her arm — except there weren't any. She must have imagined it.

"You okay?" Harry asked, not looking okay himself.

"Yeah," Ginny said automatically. "I'm fine."

ooo

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

Ginny looked at Harry uncertainly. It was after the feast, and late enough that almost everyone had gone to bed. Ginny had been planning on joining the small exodus to the girl's dormitories, but Harry had lightly grabbed her hand and indicated that she should stay for a moment.

"What makes you think something's going on?" Ginny said in what she knew to be an unconvincingly casual voice.

"The fact that you fainted and then spent the rest of the evening staring at your arm," Harry said. "Come on," he said when Ginny remained silent. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. You know that, right?"

Ginny nodded, and pulled her legs up onto the couch that they were on so she was sitting cross-legged. "When the Dementor came near me I, uh, passed out," Ginny said, blushing. "Then I imagined I was in my room back home, but Tom Riddle was there. I said that this wasn't happening, it was in my head, and he said that it _was_ in my head, but it was real, and that he'd make me remember that. Then he grabbed me where my scar is, hard enough to leave marks, and then Professor Lupin was giving me chocolate. And the weird thing is that I thought I saw marks on my arm when I woke up, but when I looked again they weren't there."

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking it over. "D'you think it was real?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," Ginny shrugged. "It felt more real than any dream I've ever had. _That_ I know. Hey, what happened to you? When you, well, you know."

"I think I heard my parents getting murdered," Harry said in a low voice. "I heard my dad my mum to run, and then Voldemort killed them I think."

Ginny put a hand to her mouth, suddenly embarrassed about her reaction. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry. That's so much worse that what I saw."

But even before Ginny finished her sentence Harry was shaking his head. "I don't think so," he said. "You deserve not to have anything to do with Voldemort for the rest of your life, and it must have been horrible to see him again. Because d'you want to know what the sick part is? I actually _liked_ hearing it. It's the only memory I have of my parents' voices."

Lacking a response which wouldn't sound corny and stupid, Ginny scooted over on the couch towards Harry and gently pulled him into a hug.

"Probably should be going to bed," Harry said as the last of the other Gryffindors headed for the dormitories.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, standing up. "See you tomorrow."

ooo

As it turned out, sleep was not a welcome turn of events for Ginny Weasley. After she had taken off her robes and slipped under the red and gold blankets, she had immediately fallen asleep —

— And found herself back in her room at the Burrow, lying under her ragged but comfortable sheets there. This would not have been such a bad dream, except for the fact that Tom Riddle was with her again.

This time the young Voldemort was sitting on the foot of the bed, looking at Ginny's head with a small smile on his face. Even though her entire body was covered by the sheets, she immediately felt exposed — she had just gone to bed, so she was wearing only her undergarments— and she tried to yank the sheets up past her collar and to her chin. This did not work, though; Riddle was sitting on the sheet, his weight preventing it from moving. The state of her undress scared her; she felt vulnerable, very vulnerable.

"This room does not suit you," Riddle said, staring into her eyes. "It is that of a little girl's, when we both know you are not that."

"This is a dream," Ginny said, pulling up her legs under her blanket so that they were crossed. "I'm having a bad dream. You're not real."

Riddle stood up and walked around to the head of Ginny's bed; she used the opportunity to pull the covers up to her chin.

"Ginevra, Ginevra," he said disapprovingly. "You don't _really_ believe that, do you?"

Riddle touched one finger to her cheek gently for a fraction of a second, and it was ice cold, unnaturally cold.

"Maybe not," Ginny admitted, shivering.

"Of course not," Riddle whispered. "You were never stupid Ginevra, quite the contrary; you were always quite a bright witch."

Riddles voice combined with the praise he was offering was mesmerizing. Ginny had never really had much of a chance to look at him close-up before, and she noticed that his eyes were grey, and enchanting grey that threatened to hypnotize her if she looked at them for too long.

"You excelled in assisting me last year," he continued, crouching down so that his head was level with hers. "You performed beyond my expectations."

Perhaps it was the mention of him forcing her to help him the previous school year that did it, but the spell was suddenly broken.

"Assisting you?" Ginny repeated, her temper flaring. "You possessed me, used me to try and kill students — to _kill_ a professor — and then knocked me out and dragged me down to the Chamber where you tried to drain the life out of me."

Riddle tilted his head to the side, and there was undisguised curiosity in his eyes. "Is that truly what you believe?" he said softly.

"How are you here?" Ginny demanded, not answering his question.

"You would fear me less if you were full robed," Riddle observed, in turn not answer her question. "After all we have been through, do you really think you have so much to fear from me?"

_Yes_, Ginny thought, but no words came out of her mouth. Sensing her answer — or maybe even knowing it — Riddle stood up and paced a few steps away.

"The body is a _thing_," he said, turning around. "It can be used for many purposes, but in the end that is all it is. I thought you learned that last year. It is foolish of you to feel nervous or uncomfortable when not fully dressed."

Ginny didn't understand what he meant by learning it last year, and she didn't ask for clarification. Perhaps knowing that she was not going to respond, Riddle spoke.

"Good night, Ginevra," he said, and when she blinked she was in her bunk at Hogwarts.

ooo

"If you're not going to have that, can I?" Ron asked at breakfast, eyeing Ginny's untouched plate hungrily. "I'll just — ow!"

Ron was cut off mid-sentence as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table opposite Harry and Ginny, and Hermione was giving Ron an angry glare. "You had your food," she said, "Harry's leftovers, _my_ scraps, and now you want your sister's?"

"'M hungry," Ron insisted, swallowing the last bit of toast crust. "I didn't eat enough dinner last night, not after Dumbledore said the Dementors were going to be sticking around here."

"Well, I'm _not_ hungry," Ginny said, pushing her plate in Ron's direction, "so you can have it. I'm gonna head back to the common room and finish some work before class."

And with that Ginny stood up and stalked off, attracting a few stares as she left the Great Hall.

Harry blinked, and then turned to Hermione. "How can she work on something when we haven't even been to any classes yet?"

"She can't," Hermione replied. "She's obviously quite upset about something else. You're finished eating, Harry, so go talk to her."

"Me?" Harry asked. "Are you sure? I'm not…you…"

Harry's sentence broke up under Hermione's glare, and he looked to Ron for support; Ron shrugged his shoulders, mouth full with the last of Ginny's food.

ooo

It wasn't that he didn't want to help Ginny with whatever was going on, Harry reflected as he gave the entry password to the Fat Lady, but it was that he was a boy. Ginny was a girl, and there were differences that could make some things awkward.

All of Harry's reservations were forgotten when he entered the common room and saw Ginny, sitting in an oversized armchair with her eyes closed. She wasn't in tears, but with her legs drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs, she was obviously in some distress. "Ginny?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Ginny opened her eyes and scanned the room until she saw Harry. "Hi," she said softly. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Harry answered. "You looked upset when you left breakfast."

Ginny nodded and shifted her position to the left side of the giant armchair, giving Harry room to sit down next to her. It was a little crowded, but still comfortable.

When Ginny didn't elaborate Harry felt obligated to speak. "Does this have anything to do with what happened on the train?" he asked.

Ginny looked at Harry, and he saw traces of fear in her brown eyes. "You won't tell anyone?" she asked of him.

"You don't even have to ask that," Harry said with a slight smile.

Ginny was silent for a moment, almost long enough that Harry was going to speak again. "I dreamed I was in my room, like the train," Ginny said, "but I wasn't sitting on my bed, I was under the covers, like I had been woken up. Riddle was there, and it was scary. And when the touched me…his hand was cold, Harry. Really cold, like a Dementor."

Ginny trailed off and looked away, either at the end of her tale or not ready to continue. After a few seconds of silence Harry put a hand on top of Ginny's, which prompted her to look at him. "It'll be okay," Harry said, although he knew no such thing. "We'll get through this."

"So cold," Ginny said so quietly that Harry almost missed it. "And he wants something from me."

ooo

It would have been fair to say that first day's worth of classes was experienced by each of the four friends very differently. Ron was chided in nearly every class for not paying enough attention, and in the Care of Magical Creatures class — that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were delighted to find out was taught by Hagrid — the vicious _Monster Book of Monsters_ snapped shut on Ron's hand, earning him a visit to Madam Pomfrey to take care of his two broken fingers.

The bulk of Harry's classes — Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Astronomy and Charms — went as expected. A relatively challengingly lesson from Professor McGonagall, a nap in History of Magic followed by an unpleasant Potions class with Snape who had evidently been waiting all summer for the chance to go after Harry again — and so on. Divination had gone…oddly…but nothing compared to Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professor who had saved them on the train, Lupin, had started with a hands-on practical right away to evaluate their skill level. It was too early to decide, but Harry had the impression that this teacher would be significantly better than the last two who had held his post. That wasn't going to be hard; all he had to do was to not harbor Voldemort and never attempt to erase Harry's memory. Quirrell and Lockhart hadn't set a very high bar.

No one could quite figure out what was going on with Hermione's day. She treated the contents of her schedule as if it was a personal secret of the highest magnitude, and to say she was distracted would be a great understatement.

But while Harry, Ron, and for the most part Hermione were sticking together to get through the day, Ginny was all alone. Being a year younger her schedule was different, and she didn't have anyone else to stick with either. Ginny had made only a few friends during her first year, something that she would not have predicted in her pre-Hogwarts years. While she was usually quite outgoing, being friends with Harry Potter had almost completely occupied her social thoughts, and being possessed by Voldemort had taken up the rest of her time. Her only real friend that she had made in her year was Colin Creevey, and after being Petrified and almost killed he wanted nothing to do with her.

Nobody else seemed to want to have anything to do with her, either. Memory of their previous school year still fresh in the Gryffindor second-year's minds, it was next to impossible to find a person to sit next to in class. As bad as that was, she far preferred that to the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws. Taunts of how she had gotten off free for what had happened last year, and one Ravenclaw muttered 'murderer' as she passed by.

If the Gryffindors were cold to her and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were mean to her, then the Slytherins were utterly perplexing — and nice. Invitations (that she did not take up) to sit with them, slipping her a copy of the History of Magic notes at the end of class, and kicking the other students who were mean to her constituted just a small samples of the favors they gave her that morning. They stopped short of openly cheering her and asking her to join Slytherin, but not that far short.

Ginny didn't believe it for a second. The Slytherins were always up to something, and that meant if they were being nice to her, they had something bad in store for her.

Life at Hogwarts, it seemed, would never be dull.

ooo

_A/N: Edited it the best I could, but as always a review pointing out a mistake I made would be welcomed._


	14. The Little Girl from Old Jormire

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: Well, it's been a while. Some of that has to do with me having less time to write nowadays, but if you take a quick glance down the chapter you might see that it's perhaps the longest so far; I also have a good portion of Chap. 15 written (it was going to be one super-long chapter, but I managed to break it up). On a different note, a lot of this chapter is from Ginny's perspective, so if you enjoy sticking to the more authentic Harry Potter style and only rarely leaving Harry's POV I apologize for that._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Fourteen: The Little Girl from Old Jormire**

"Ron, shut up," Ginny stated crossly over dinner. "Harry's not going to die because the crazy Divination teacher _thought_ she saw a dog in his tea cup."

"He had the _Grim_," Ron insisted.

Ginny sighed and pushed her half-eaten plate away, severely annoyed. Hermione had refused to listen to anymore talk about Professor Trelawney's deadly prediction, so Ron had gone looking for someone else that might agree with him. "We don't know that Uncle Bilius saw a Grim before he died," Ginny said in exasperation. "And the only Grim Harry's every seen is was in a cup —"

"I think I saw a Grim once," Harry interrupted offhandedly, causing Ron to inhale most of his glass of pumpkin juice up his nose.

"You _what_?" Ron coughed, juice dripping from his face. "When?"

"When I was kicked out of the Dursleys'," Harry answered. "It was there, in a park."

Ginny took advantage of Ron's stunned silence (Harry's admission about the Grim had surprised her, but it didn't worry her very much) to change the subject. "How did Hagrid's class go?" Ginny asked. "I know Ron's book broke his fingers…"

"Hagrid had to take Ron up to the hospital wing," Hermione answered. "After that there wasn't honestly much time for anything else, so Hagrid said that he would show the surprise he had for us tomorrow. Something 'interesting'."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the word 'surprise' and exchanged a significant glance with Ginny, who had a bad feeling in her stomach. "Doesn't Hagrid consider dragons, three-headed dogs and giant spiders to be 'interesting'?" Ginny asked nervously.

Ron shuddered at the mention of the spiders. "I like Hagrid, don't get me wrong," Ron started, "but if he brings in any of those spiders I'm outta here."

ooo

Having two students sent to Madam Pomfrey in two days was most likely not the best way to start a class, Ginny thought as she walked to Potions the next day. She had gotten a report during lunch from Harry on how the Care of Magical Creatures class had gone, and it wasn't so good. Something about Malfoy angering a Hippogriff — it served him right in Ginny's opinion, but it might be bad news for Hagrid.

Ginny sighed inwardly as they all took their seats; of the two houses in the room no Gryffindors were willing to sit next to her, but a pretty Slytherin girl that had been following the general Slytherin tactic of being suspiciously nice sat down next to Ginny.

"Books out; open to page thirty-three," Snape ordered from the front of the room. "You will be attempting to make a Calming Draught; be warned, no second-year has successfully made one for decades. Get to it."

Snape was telling the truth, Ginny thought. The Draught involved spells she wasn't familiar with, and ingredients she had never heard of. The Slytherin was not help; what she had in looks she apparently lacked in brains, meaning it was all up to Ginny. She thought that she was actually doing rather well , and at the end of class the vial of potion which she handed over to Snape was as good as anyone else's. The mouse that it was fed to fell asleep instantly, giving Ginny an eight out of ten — the second best in the class.

ooo

Everything seemed to be going fairly well on all fronts for the four students. Riddle hadn't appeared, classes were mostly good, and despite the Gryffindors as a whole cold-shouldering Ginny she thought that a few might be starting to warm up to her. The worst of it was Buckbeak, whose life was in the hands of Lucius Malfoy — who, according to Hagrid, controlled the committee that would decide whether to pardon the Hippogriff or to execute him, and from what experiences Ginny had with Lucius that did not bode well for the beast.

Exactly two weeks had passed from the start of class when things began to get interesting very quickly, and not always in a good way. Having the persistent feeling that the Grim he had learned about in Divination was related to the black dog he had seen, Harry was relieved when he remembered his next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Not only had Professor Lupin exceeded the standards set by his two predecessors, he had quite possibly become Harry's favorite teacher. His class was not only interesting, it was fun — and Lupin was as fair a teacher as Harry had ever seen.

When he walked into the room there was a large cabinet sitting in the center of the floor; Lupin was standing next to it. When the people who had first filtered in started to sit down, Lupin shook his head.

"No, no," he said. "Stand, if you will. We're having a practical lesson today. Has anyone heard of a Boggart?"

ooo

Up until Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ginny was having a good day. It had gotten too boring for most students to keep teasing her, and by working furiously in class she was able to take her mind of things. She was looking forward to the class, probably because of all the people in her classes Lupin was the nicest to her. He called everyone in the class by their first name, and was, well, a good teacher. When Ginny entered the classroom, she saw a large cabinet front and center, very much like the kind of cabinets kept at home.

"Good morning — or afternoon, since it's almost time for lunch," Lupin said with a smile. "Now, if you'll all come to this side of the room…"

The class of second-years moved away from the desks and to an empty portion of the room. "Here we go," Lupin said as the last student made it to the designated area. "Good. Now, normally I wouldn't do this for second years, but since it was such a success for the third-years I thought we'd give it a try. Has anyone heard of a Boggart? Just a few of you?" Lupin asked when only a couple people raised their hands. "Well, they're a simple but frightening pest that some households have," Lupin continued. "Many witches and wizards are too afraid to go near them — but that's because they don't know there's a simple charm to take care of them."

Lupin looked around the group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and gave them a reassuring smile, because a few of them had become visibly nervous at his description. "A Boggart turns itself into your worst fear," Lupin said. "This is what scares so many people away, but it's easy to combat it. This is how you do it."

As Lupin went over how to fight a Boggart, Ginny was working furiously to control her fear, because she had a pretty good idea what was going to come out of the cabinet. When Lupin asked them to form a line, she made sure to be at the back of it, hoping they'd run out of time before it was her turn.

As the class progressed through the shape-shifter, Ginny started to feel more confident. At the rate they were going she would have to face it, but almost everyone was facing their fears just fine. She felt a pang of guilt when it was Colin's turn; what had been a giant dinosaur started to turn into a mammoth serpent, but Lupin pulled Colin out of the line and pushed the next kid forward before it had time to form.

When it was the last person's turn — Ginny's turn — she felt like she could do it. When she stepped up to the lion that had been turned into a pink housecat, she raised her wand with a degree of confidence and prepared to cast the spell that would turn her fear into something silly.

The cat seemed explode into a cloud of black mist, and out from the mist came two figures. Tom Riddle strode confidently towards Ginny, a wand raised and pointed at her heart. The second figure was a Dementor, and with a snap of Riddle's fingers it started to glide towards Ginny.

Seeing Riddle in the flesh, along with the feeling brought on by the Dementor and the cruel laughing in her head caused Ginny to drop her wand. She shivered, partially from the chill the Dementor emanated and partially from fear, and started to back away —

Lupin suddenly dashed in front of her, and the two menacing figures merged into one, shrunk, and shot up into the air to become a shining silver orb. With a flick of his want Lupin sent the orb rocketing back into the cabinet, and another silent spell locked it.

Lupin glanced at Ginny, and then turned to the class. "Dismissed," he said quickly even though there was a good ten minutes left. "Enjoy some free time before lunch."

After everyone besides Ginny had vacated the classroom Lupin closed the doors with a wave of his wand, and then walked towards his office at the back of the room; when Ginny didn't move Lupin motioned with his hand for her to follow him.

Ginny followed him into the back room and sat down on an offered chair. She watched as Professor Lupin opened a briefcase and extracted two bottles, and then returned to the table and sat down opposite her.

"Butterbeer," he said as he gave one to Ginny and took one for himself. "Have you ever had it?"

Ginny shook her head, and had to clear her throat to talk. "Mum and dad never let me."

"You'll be able to get it next year in Hogsmeade," Lupin stated, "but it can't hurt to have a bit a year early. Go on, try it."

Ginny popped open the top and took a sip, and then immediately took another. Having been in Lupin's briefcase for a while the Butterbeers were at room temperature, but still delicious. Lupin waited for Ginny to finish her drink before speaking.

"Ginny," he said, "I would like to apologize for letting you go against the Boggart. I should have known what form it would take, but I didn't think about it."

Ginny looked away, not wanting Lupin to see her distress. "Why the Dementor?" Ginny asked, finally looking at Lupin. "Voldemort, Riddle, I knew he would be there and thought I would be ready for that. But both of them?"

"Dementors force you to relive your worst memories," Lupin said. "If you have bad memories of Voldemort, the pair would have made a frightening combination. Lions, flying gnomes with sharp teeth, what everyone else faced there was the child's worry of what lurks in the closet at night. You, you had much worse come at you."

Ginny thought that over for a few seconds, taking in the fact that he wasn't afraid to call Voldemort by his name, and then looked quizzically at Lupin. "Why're you afraid of the moon?"

Lupin looked surprised. "The moon?" he said.

"Yeah, that's what the Boggart turned into."

Lupin shook his head. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," he said smoothly. "It was a crystal ball. I've had bad experiences with Divination that I'd not care to talk about."

Ginny nodded her head in acceptance, but was puzzled; she could have sworn she had seen little craters all over that sphere's surface. "Is there anything I can do about the Dementors?" Ginny asked, changing the subject slightly. "If there're Dementors around the school, I don't want this to happen again."

To her surprise, Lupin smiled. "Funny you should ask that," he said. "If you come here tomorrow, around this time, I'll show you."

ooo

Ginny's day was not over, and neither were her troubles. She didn't go to lunch, not wanting to face the other Gryffindors, so the last scheduled thing in her day was double-Potions. While she didn't look forward to Potions, she didn't dread it either. This was because of how Snape treated her; he wasn't nice to her, like McGonagall or Lupin was, but when he was doling out his share of the Gryffindor bashing he seemed to hold back when it came to her. She didn't know if it was because of what happened last year or not, but Ginny wasn't going to complain. The double-length lesson was both grueling and interesting, and when Ginny turned in a vial of her completed Paper Shrinking Solution, she was fairly confident she'd get a good grade.

Slinging her book bag over a shoulder, she headed out of the dungeon that served as a Potions room and back to the common room for some free time, or possibly to work on the gigantic Potions work they had just been assigned for over the weekend.

While the teasing about the Chamber had been bad for a while now — people whispering to her "Murderer," and worse — Ginny had been holding up, especially now that it was starting to let up a little. But the final straw came when she had walked about fifty feet from the doors to the Potions room.

"Hey, Weasley!"

Draco Malfoy was standing there, arm in his sling. along with a large group of his fellow Slytherins. The kind treatment of Ginny by the Slytherinshad been going on for a couple weeks now, but Draco had never been present — and that made her nervous.

"Weasley, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way I treated you last year," he said, actually looking repentant.

For a single, foolish moment Ginny actually allowed herself to build up hope that maybe he was decent somewhere down, and took pity on her this year, that maybe the actions of the Slytherins _weren't_ malicious; he shattered that thought with his next words

"I didn't know," he said, his face splitting into a cruel grin, "that you hated the Mudbloods as much as we did! Got to hand it to you, Weasley, couldn't have killed that Mudblood excuse for a teacher without you."

While the now unveiled master plan of the Slytherins would have been only annoying and slightly upsetting on one of her 'good' days, today was not a good day. Tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, she turned on her heel and sprinted down the way she had come, forced to listen to the laughs of the Slytherins behind her.

She ran without thinking, tears spilling down her face. She couldn't go back to the common room, couldn't face Harry or Hermione or any of her brothers. Not really knowing where she was going, she rounded a corner and found a door, hopefully to an empty classroom; it was locked. She pulled out her wand and whispered, "_Alohomora_,"; the door slid open and she burst through into a room that she had just been in, found another door that was ajar, and raced down a spiral staircase. Part of her brain was registering that she was where she had just left, the Potions room, and that she shouldn't be in it, let alone venturing further into it, but she needed to keep running.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the bottom, where she had never been before. She was in a room dominated by cabinets that were labeled and in neat order; there was a small bed in one corner of the room, a fireplace, and a few other things. But what drew her gaze was something beautiful: A bright, silver doe was walking around the center of the room, not making any noise. Ginny was captivated by it, for it was one of the most graceful things that she had ever seen. And in an instant she knew what it was: A Patronus — which meant that the caster was in the room.

Severus Snape, who had been sitting on his small bed, wand out and gazing at the doe as if it was the most precious thing he had ever seen, stood up suddenly; the doe vanished. A mixture of anger and what was perhaps a tinge of embarrassment lined his face.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"I — I just —" Ginny stammered, but Snape cut through her sentence.

"My door was _locked_!" Snape almost shouted; he was livid, his pale face flushed with anger.

"Alohomora," Ginny whispered meekly. "It — I thought it was —"

And to her horror, she started crying. Not just a few tears, but a full scale breakdown, and in front of Snape, of all people. She was going to get expelled, or detention for the rest of her time at Hogwarts, she knew it.

"Settle down."

Mopping her eyes on the sleeve of robes, Ginny saw that Snape had conjured up a small table and a chair.

"Sit," he said. Sniffling, Ginny sat down, unsure of what Snape was doing.

"You have a reason as to why you came barging in here?" Snape asked, standing opposite her.

"Wasn't watching where I was going," Ginny mumbled. "Just wanted to get away from Malfoy."

Snape moved towards the stairs and quickly waved his wand around, before returning with a frown on his face.

"The spell must be wearing out," Snape said in annoyance. "Both my class and office doors should be bewitched against that."

Ginny said nothing.

ooo

Severus Snape was silently cursing himself for leaving the door to his office open. He had assumed that the spells he had cast a few years ago were holding up well, and never bothered to test them.

What to do with the Weasley girl. That was the question that Snape was trying to figure out. She had seen the doe, and although she probably had no idea what it was — _certainly_ no idea what it meant — he was not happy about that. He had no precedent from which he could take a punishment, but several came into his mind: four months of detention, docking a full grade from her scores in her class…

But he when he considered saying these things he found out that he actually didn't want to do that. Any other Gryffindor — Potter, the other Weasleys, any of them — or students from the other houses he would readily give punishment to. But he was hesitating in this case, and not for the first time, and he didn't know why.

No, that was a lie. She reminded him too much of _her_, back when they were both just beginning their education at Hogwarts. And even though he knew they were different, the memories kept coming back up. And now something was wrong, and she wouldn't say what it was. Snape turned his wand towards her, minimizing the movements so Ginny wouldn't notice them.

Snape knew that he shouldn't be doing what he was about to do. He used Legilimency occasionally on students, on Potter a few times — the Headmaster was not pleased when he found out about _that_ — but it was against the rules…and the law, for that matter. Still, he was confident he could do it without her noticing, and he could get to the bottom of this quickly.

Snape pointed his wand at her, went through the incantation mentally — and staggered back as a flood of unpleasant memories hit him. Abysmal treatment from fellow students and something to do with the Dark Lord as a teenager. Something that made her fear sleep.

Snape noticed that the girl was looking at him quizzically, no doubt wondering what was going on.

"Back to your tower," Snape said quickly so as to divert her attention away from his flustered composure. "And skip today's assignment," Snape added, at the same time unsure why he was saying that.

Ginny stood up, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She started up the stairs, and then when she was almost out of view she turned around. "Professor," she said. "That doe, it was a beautiful Patronus."

"Yes," Snape said, not looking at Ginny. "She was."

ooo

In the common room before dinner, Harry was sitting in a chair across from Ginny, his arms crossed.

"Can I 'talk' to Malfoy now?" Harry said, making it clear that he didn't want to just talk.

"No," Ginny replied, "Because he's surrounded by about thirty goons that would stop you before you got close. No. Plus, his plan was pretty pathetic anyway; it just upset me because I was having a bad day."

"I gotta say, I don't understand Snape anymore," Harry said. "I thought he was a mean git who hated everyone but Slytherins, but he was really nice to you."

Ginny nodded and was about to tell Harry about Snape's beautiful Patronus, but then stopped. She could not explain why, but she felt that the doe was private, something that Ginny didn't have a right to know — but since she did know, she shouldn't spread it around.

"Did get lucky about the assignment there," Harry said. "Hey, you remember what's happening the day after tomorrow?"

Ginny racked her brain for the correct answer. The trip to Hogsmeade — which she was too young to make — was the next day, but she had no idea what was the day after that.

"Dementor lessons with Professor Lupin?" Ginny guessed.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Forgot about that. No, I meant the Quidditch tryouts."

"You didn't tell me about _that_," Ginny said, her excitement growing. "Tryouts in two days?"

"Yup," Harry confirmed. "It's your chance to get on the team. Now, I gotta work on a piece of Transfiguration now or Hermione'll have my head, so if you'll excuse me —"

Harry sat up and walked away to get his work. Ginny lay down on the couch she was sitting on, but did not close her eyes; she had been trying to minimize her amount of sleep time as much as possible, to give Riddle less time to have his little…times with her.

ooo

Ginny's bad day did not end with going to bed. Although her plan had been to avoid sleeping as much as possible she had been worn out from the day's events and was asleep only a minute or two after lying down.

Ginny opened her eyes, and she was back at the Burrow again. Even though she had worn full robes to bed she was in exactly the same clothes she had been in last time this had happened.

And Riddle was there. Still sitting on the corner of her bed, he was looking at her intently. "Welcome back," he said. "You seem frightened, Ginevra. Do you think I'm going to do something to hurt you?"

Ginny fought hard to control her breathing. She had been thinking, and she was very afraid of what he might do.

"You should know me better than that," Riddle said, standing up and backing a few paces away from the bed. "Get up."

"No," Ginny refused, not wanting to show herself without full clothing to Riddle.

Riddle gave a sigh and pointed his wand at her. "Either you stand up," he said in a serious voice, "or I make you stand up. You should appreciate the fact that I give you the courtesy to do that of your own free will."

Ginny believed him, but still couldn't find the courage. And then, perversely, the thoughts that gave her the courage came from Riddle.

_The body is a _thing_. It is foolish of you to feel nervous or uncomfortable when not fully dressed._

Swallowing Ginny stood up, the sheets falling away. She felt almost naked, only made worse as Riddle's eyes quickly flickered across her body, but thankfully when they came to rest on her face they stayed there.

"You _are _very pretty," he said almost to himself. "There's something I find beautiful about your age — but you already know that, do you not?"

"Are you going to say what you want, Riddle? Or are you just going to rattle on?" Ginny said with forced bravado.

The corner of Riddle's mouth pulled up in half-smile. "You really are perfect, Ginevra. Do you know how few _adult_ witches would dare to talk to me like you do? Perhaps it is not the wisest course of action, but I am sure that in time you will learn."

Although she knew it was wrong, his praise felt good. Perhaps it was not so surprising; not only had he been her confidant for an entire school year, he was also handsome and charismatic. He was charming and it was easy to forget that he was Voldemort for a second.

Riddle casually strode towards the door in Ginny's room and turned around to face her. "Where does this lead?"

"The stairs," Ginny answered. "I can go up to Ron's room, or downstairs."

Riddle's eyes narrowed. "I am disappointed," he hissed, and Ginny took a step backwards at the tone in his voice. "I did not think you such a naïve little girl, Ginevra. Do you _honestly_ think we're actually in your room?"

Ginny stopped retreating and thought about that. If they were in her head than perhaps that door was a passageway to someplace else.

"No," Ginny said finally. "We're not. But I don't know where it leads."

Riddle's anger seemed to abate. "Do you want to find out?" he asked, motioning to the door.

Ginny studied the door, Riddle's expression, and though about the situation. "You don't want me to," she said, looking directly at him. "It's not something you want me to see."

"_Yet_," Riddle amended. "In time you will be able to see what lies beyond."

Riddle withdrew something from his pocket and tossed it at Ginny; she caught it in midair, and it took her a second to notice that it was her wand.

"What's this for?" Ginny asked, mentally trying to figure out the ways in which she could incapacitate or kill Riddle and run for the door. The problem was that she really didn't know much in the way of offensive spells, which rather limited her options.

"The mark of a Witch or Wizard's skill is their dueling ability," Riddle said, drawing his wand. "You have none."

Ginny felt her cheeks burn at his proclamation of her worthlessness. His opinion shouldn't have mattered…but it did, perhaps because of how much he had meant to her in the past, or his dominating presence.

"But," Riddle continued, "There exists the possibility for great things to be in store for you, Ginevra, and you must move faster than any of the other students at your school. You must master the spells. Do you know the Petrifying spell?"

"Petrificus Totalus," Ginny answered. "Harry used it at the dueling club last year."

"A very handy spell," Riddle said. "And a good one to start out with. This —"

Riddle was stopped mid-sentence by Ginny, who had thrown a Bat Bogey Hex at him while he was talking. While she was casting the spell she made a break for the door —

— And never even made it close. Riddle flicked his wand with incredible speed and Ginny realized too late that he had been on guard for such a move. His parry snapped Ginny's wand out of her hand and sent it flying into Riddle's free hand and a second flick her threw her into the opposite wall: her head slammed into it and she saw stars. When the room came back into focus the first thing she saw was Riddle's eyes; he had crossed the room while she was disoriented.

"You would have disappointed me if you had not tried that," he whispered into her ear. "But you would be wise not to attempt it again."

Riddle waved his wand and she was released, and because Ginny was still woozy from his counterattack she crumpled to the floor and stayed there a moment before standing up. Managing to make it over to her bed she sat down; Riddle was back at the other corner of the room, arms again crossed.

"Is your name Riddle because that's all you speak in?" Ginny said angrily, her head throbbing painfully. "You never tell the truth about anything, or even lie in a straightforward way. What _are_ you? What do you want?"

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think I'm going to tell you everything now? You have to have patience, my dear. It is a virtue, after all. Now go on, practice. Try to Petrify me."

"Why?" Ginny insisted. "Why all of this?"

"You are young," Riddle said, not answering directly. "You grew up in a far more pampered life style than I, and as such can be forgiven for mistakes made at the start. Now do as I say, Ginevra."

The rest of the night passed slowly, the repeated casting of the same spell getting boring quickly. Ginny would try her best to curse Riddle, but because he blocked all her spells with ease she had no idea if she was getting better or not. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Riddle glanced at his watch while repelling another of her spells. "That will do," he said. He put his wand in his pocket, but now Ginny knew better than to attack him.

"What now?" Ginny asked, both nervous and curious.

"Time to wake up," he answered. "Goodnight, Ginevra."

And with that Ginny opened her eyes again, now in the girl's dormitory at Hogwarts. Everything was as she had left it before going to sleep. If she didn't know better she would have said that her time with Riddle had never happened.

ooo

On the way down the twisting stairs that led from the Gryffindor tower to the lower level of the castle, Harry took a long look at Ginny's face. "You don't look like you slept well," he ventured.

"I didn't," Ginny said tersely; she hadn't been able to fall asleep after Riddle, and she didn't particularly want to recount the events of the previous night. "Are you going to have fun in Hogsmeade?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I think we'll have fun there, yeah," Harry replied, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny stopped too and gave him an odd look. "I can't go, remember?"

"With this you can," Harry countered, taking out his invisibility cloak which had been hidden inside his robes and tossing it to Ginny. "C'mon."

ooo

Harry's idea of using the invisibility cloak to get Ginny into Hogsmeade, which had had thought of in the summer, lasted about twenty feet. It was snowing out, and everyone was bundled up for the cold weather. Hermione and Ron, who didn't know of Harry's plan, had gone ahead to Hogsmeade when Harry had told them he would catch up; they had to wait for the crowd to leave or they ran a risk of the invisible Ginny bumping into someone. When the coast was clear they started to make their way to Hogsmeade, which was when Harry spotted Fred and George marching through the snow in their direction.

"Morning, Harry," Fred called out as the twins came to a stop only a few feet away from Harry and the concealed Ginny. "Cold?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said. "It's snowing."

The twins nodded. "That it is," George agreed. "Ginny, are you cold?"

Ginny said nothing, so Harry answered the question. "She's…in the castle, so…probably not," he responded weakly.

"Wasn't asking you," George said.

"You see, Harry," Fred continued, "you're walking in the snow, leaving footprints —"

"And you're leaving four of them," George finished.

"Two of them are really small," Fred added. "So why don't you come out, little sis?"

Harry could her some grumbling behind him, and then Ginny whipped off Harry's cloak, and he saw that she was glaring daggers at her brothers. "Got a problem with me going to Hogsmeade?" she said angrily.

"Got a problem with Filch nabbing you before you get off the castle grounds," Fred corrected. "Now come over here."

Fred grabbed Harry's right arm and George grabbed Ginny's left arm, and together the two brothers forced Harry and Ginny back into the castle and into an empty room. With a flourish George produced a piece of parchment, and told what they knew of the Marauder's Map.

"You're just giving this away?" Harry asked suspiciously. "No catch?"

"We owe these Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs characters a lot," Fred admitted.

"But it's time to pass it on," George said with an exaggerated sigh. "We'll manage."

"Brilliant," Harry said at the same time as Ginny said, "No."

Harry looked at Ginny in surprise. "Why not?" he said incredulously.

"'Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain'," Ginny recited. "My dad said that last year and I didn't listen to him — and someone's dead because of that."

"We've used this for years," Fred insisted after a moment's silence, "and the only person it's harmed is Filch."

"We got the Slytherin Quidditch team that one year," George reminded his brother.

"Oh yeah…" Fred frowned. "Still, this thing is harmless."

"The diary seemed harmless," Ginny countered, but Harry could see she was losing some of her resolve.

George shrugged. "Fine. We'll keep this, and you can enjoy a couple weeks' detention for sneaking off castle grounds—" George pointed at Ginny "—and for helping someone sneak off," he finished with a glance in Harry's direction.

George had gotten to the point of rolling the map up when Ginny gave in. "Okay," she conceded. "Give it here."

Ginny snatched the map out of George's hands, leaving her older brother looking indignant. "We never get any appreciation," he said to Fred.

"Never," Fred agreed. "Just don't get caught, you two. We nabbed it from Filch's office once, but we're not going to do it again."

ooo

Back inside the castle Ginny held the Marauder's Map up to the light and tapped it once with her wand. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," Ginny recited with a slight smile on her face. The smile widened into a grin as thin lines of ink spread across the paper.

_Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
_**THE MARAUDER'S MAP**

When the map became visible Ginny looked at Harry, who was wearing an identical smile. "C'mon," Harry said. "Let's find that witch."

ooo

Ginny was glad that she wasn't claustrophobic, because the tunnel to Honeydukes wasn't very large — or pleasant, for that matter. She was starting to wonder if this whole thing was a joke when the passage started to have a definite upward slant to it. About ten minutes later they reached a stone staircase which Ginny started to climb, Harry following her. It was very dark, so dark that she did not see the end of the stairs. Expecting to be taking another step up her foot tried to find purchase on a non-existent piece of stone, tipping her off balance; she would have fallen down the flight of stairs if Harry, who was behind her, hadn't caught her in time. As Harry helped get Ginny back on her feet she was suddenly glad that the tunnel was so dark, because it concealed her furious blushing.

"Up this ladder," Ginny said quickly in an attempt to not let her flustered composure show. She walked up to a ladder she had spotted and nimbly climbed up it, reaching a trapdoor at the top. Pulling the Invisibility Cloak out from one of her pockets and wrapping it around her upper body she slowly eased the trapdoor up enough that so that she could stick her small head through it: she saw and heard no one in the room above.

"It's clear," Ginny told Harry as she pushed the trapdoor all the way open and stowed the cloak again. "Follow me."

They climbed out into what had to be the basement of the candy store. Glancing around for any adults, the two made their way up a short set of stairs and through a door that led into the bustling shop. It was so busy in Honeydukes that no one noticed the two slip into the crowd, and the challenge wasn't so much to not be seen as it was to find Ron and Hermione. About two minutes later Ginny tapped Harry on the shoulder and gestured towards a section labeled _Dangerous Delights_, where Ron and Hermione were standing.

"Will you stop looking at the candy?" Ginny could hear Hermione say angrily to Ron as she drew closer. "Harry should have been here twenty minutes ago —"

"_Relax_," Ron said forcefully while eying a box of Poisonous Pies warily. "He'll be here. Do you reckon its best not to buy anything from this section?"

"Definitely," Harry said, causing Ron to jump and Hermione to drop the bag of money she had been holding.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "Where were you?"

"Underground," Ginny replied; both pairs of eyes snapped towards her, and Ron looked slightly faint.

"How — how'd you get here?" he asked weakly. "You're not supposed to be in Hogsmeade."

"But here I am," Ginny countered with a large grin on her face. "Now hurry up and buy your candy. I want to try some fresh Butterbeer."

ooo

Hot Butterbeer and a warm inside temperature kept the four inside the Three Broomsticks for the rest of the trip. Time slipped by fast, and soon Hermione was heavily hinting that it was time to leave.

"You go," Ginny said while working on her fourth Butterbeer. "I want to finish this before heading back to Honeydukes."

Ron and Hermione left, but Harry was staying behind He figured it was best to stick with Ginny, considering that she wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.

"What time is it?" Ginny asked with a slight yawn. "Oh, look — there's hardly anyone left."

It was true: almost everyone was gone from the Three Broomsticks, and Harry had a suspicion that it was close to closing time. He was just about to suggest that they head back when the doors opened, and in walked none other than Professor McGonagall and Prime Minister Fudge. Harry immediately grabbed the cloak from his pocket and threw it over them so that he and Ginny were concealed.

" — And I quite agree with Dumbledore that they should not be let inside the castle," McGonagall was saying to Fudge. "His views will not have changed on the matter."

"I suppose not," Fudge sighed as he took a seat at the bar. "Still, it would aid the search —"

"And one would be a fool to trust a Dementor around hundreds of students," McGonagall said coldly. "A glass of Firewhiskey, if you would Rosmerta."

"Certainly," the attractive barwoman who Ron had been sneaking glances at all afternoon said. "And you, Minister?"

"I'm fine," Fudge said, waving a hand. "I don't much feel like a drink. Just got back from reprimanding the Dementors — they broke their posts guarding the school to go after a few Muggles that got a bit close, you see."

"The Dementors," Rosmerta said icily. "Been near ruining my business, they have. Going up and down the streets at night…it's like you're expecting him to show up here."

Fudge looked at McGonagall and cleared his throat. "Well," he started, "we do have reason to believe he has certain motives. I don't suppose you remember Black at Hogwarts?"

ooo

Harry made his way back through the secret passage to Hogwarts with Ginny in tow, still in shock. It was very fortunate that no one was in the halls — and a little unusual — because Harry wouldn't have been in much of a state to answer any questions. Ginny was keeping an eye on the Marauder's Map, and several times had to navigate a different route back to Gryffindor tower because the names of teachers wandering the halls got in their way.

After Ginny woke up the Fat Lady and the grouchy portrait reluctantly let them in Ginny was surprised to see that the only occupants of the common room were Ron and Hermione. Ron was slouched in an armchair, apparently taking a nap, while Hermione was pacing back and forth nervously. When she saw the pair she rushed over to them, looking both angry and concerned.

"Where have you two been?" she demanded. "Do you know what time it is?"

Ginny looked at her old watch and saw that it was just past midnight. "Oops," Ginny said. "We were kinda…preoccupied."

Ron was starting to stir, and Ginny decided it might be a good idea to sit down. She seated herself in a chair next to Ron, while Harry and Hermione sat on the only remaining piece of furniture that was facing their way, a plush couch.

"Wha's 'appening — hey, where were you two?" Ron mumbled as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Sorry," Ginny apologized again. "But we, were, uh —"

"Found out about Black," Harry interrupted, saving Ginny from having to decide whether to reveal what had happened or not. "We were at the Three Broomsticks right before they closed, when no one was there, and right when we were about to head back Professor McGonagall stopped in for a drink."

Hermione blinked, looking like she was having trouble imagining the head of Gryffindor house drinking anything with alcohol. "You two didn't spy on her?" Hermione asked nervously. "You can't spy on —"

"I wasn't _planning_ to, Hermione, but then they started talking about Black," Harry said. "McGonagall was talking about how she just couldn't believe that he could do what he did."

"You mean killing all those Muggles?" Ron said, now awake enough to make sense of the conversation.

"No," Harry said. "You see, there was a charm on my mum and dad's house so Voldemort couldn't find them, and the only person who knew where they were was someone they chose as a 'secret keeper'."

"That's the Fidelius Charm," Hermione said. "They would have cast it over their house and chosen someone to be their Secret Keeper, the person who could reveal where the place was. But if they had it on their house, how did he find them — and you?"

Harry sighed, and Ginny took over. "Because they made Sirius Black their Secret Keeper."

There were a few seconds where neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Then finally Ron found his voice. "That's mental," he objected. "Why would they put one of You-Know-Who's biggest supporters in charge of their safety?"

"Because according to McGonagall," Harry said, looking directly at Ron and Hermione, "Sirius Black had three friends at Hogwarts, and all four of them were considered an inseparable bunch. They were Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew — James Potter."

No one said anything for a moment; Ginny could practically hear the gears in Hermione's head working on overdrive. "Are you saying that Black was friends with the wizard he killed, with Professor Lupin, and with your dad?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And since I'm going with Ginny to learn about how to get rid of Dementors tomorrow, I think it might be time to have a little chat with him."

ooo

"Good morning," Lupin said jovially as Harry and Ginny walked into his classroom and to his office. "Are you ready to begin? That Boggart is in —"

"Did you know Sirius Black when you were a student here?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Why do you ask that?" Lupin said, seeming slightly taken aback.

"Because I heard that you were friends with him," Harry replied. "And my dad. And I know he was the Secret Keeper."

Lupin sighed and suddenly looked very tired and old. He moved over towards the nearest chair and sat down in it, and looked at Harry for a long moment. "You look just like your father, do you know that?" Lupin said. "Except for your eyes."

"My mother's eyes, yeah," Harry finished, having heard it before.

Lupin gave a weary smile. "I suppose you get tired of hearing it, Harry, but the truth is that you do look extraordinarily like James."

"So you did know my dad," Harry insisted; Ginny studied the walls, feeling out of place.

"Yes," Lupin affirmed. "And Sirius Black — or at least I thought I did. Where did you hear this?"

"I overheard Professor McGonagall talking about it," Harry answered, leaving out the fact that Ginny had been there.

"You don't know the full story, Harry," Lupin said wearily. "And neither do I; the only person who knows why everything happened the way it did is Sirius Black, and he'll never tell us. The Dementors are planning to give him the kiss when they catch him."

Harry was confused. "This kiss?"

Lupin gave a small smile and stood up. "You have a lot to learn," he said. "Why don't we start with what exactly a Dementor is."

ooo

Ginny would not have exactly called the lessons with Professor Lupin a resounding success. The Boggart that Lupin had brought out to practice on was more than a match for either Harry or Ginny, and it stayed that way throughout the entire length of the lesson. While Lupin had assured them that it was expecting too much to create Patronus on their first try, it still felt like a failure. And with those thoughts in her mind the Quidditch tryouts seemed frightening, not exciting.

Like everyone else she was bundled in red and gold robes to ward off the cold, but unlike any of the other few hopeful second-years out on the field she had her own broom, and a nice one at that.

"Who's who?" Ginny asked Harry, whose mood had temporarily brightened when it was time to fly again.

"Wood over there, he's the captain and Keeper," Harry replied, indicating Oliver Wood. "Those three are the chasers, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and —"

"And _that_ is Angelina Johnson, hands-down the best-looking player on team," Fred cut in, having quietly walked over with George by his side.

"You know who we are, right Gin?" George added.

"Don't call me that," Ginny said crossly, her frustration an attempt to shield any signs of how nervous she was.

Fred made an exaggerated expression that suggested Ginny had mortally wounded him. "So hostile," he said with a hint of a smile. "And to think we were going to give you advice."

"Were were _going_ to tell you to…well, never mind," George trailed off.

"Wait, what?" Ginny called out as the two beaters started to turn around.

George looked at Ginny over his shoulder. "See the brooms all the other second-years have?" George asked, indicating the school-owned Shooting Stars held by four young Gryffindors. "See what broom you have?"

When Ginny still looked confused, Fred sighed. "They're not used to anyone on their team, except for Harry, _having a broom as fast as yours_," Fred said while tossing his bat from one hand to the other. "Figure it out from there, sis."

ooo

Wood had decided to get the Seeker tryouts done first, and to no one's surprise the two potential Seekers didn't come anywhere close to Harry in terms of skill. While the two Gryffindors walked away, grumbling about Harry's broom being an unfair advantage, the Beaters were up; it was a very short contest, in which the Weasley twins were the clear winners. And then it was time for the Chasers to try and make the three spots on the team. Ginny quickly looked around, and saw that there were eight other Gryffindors — not counting the three already on the team — who were going to be putting up a fight for the spot. To make matters worse, all but one of the players was older than Ginny, and it didn't help her nerves that she was slated to go last.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. When it came time for the Chaser tryouts he had stopped circling the pitch and had landed next to Ginny. "Oliver's doing this in alphabetic order…and nobody else has a last name with a letter above 'W'."

Ginny sighed and watched Katie Bell form up around the field, looping around to the opposite side. As Katie tossed the Quaffle from one hand to the other — either casually from confidence or nervously, Ginny couldn't tell at this distance — Ginny tried to memorize the rules Wood had quickly stated before sending Katie up in the air. It was based on a point system, and to make things interesting you had one Beater trying to knock you off your broom, the other trying to protect you (the enchantment on the Bludger had been toned down for safety reasons). You had four tries with the Quaffle, and Wood was guarding the goal; two points to get it in, one if it would have gone in but Wood caught it. Loss of a point if you got hit by a Bludger, loss of two points if…if…

"How do you lose two points?" Ginny whispered to Harry as Katie dodged a Bludger and threw a near-perfect shot that zoomed under Wood's legs and went through the lower goal loop.

"By dropping the Quaffle," Harry whispered back while Wood tossed the Quaffle back to Katie for her second run. "And that ends your run," he added.

As it turned out, dropping the Quaffle seemed to be a fairly common problem. The other second-year managed to get hit by the Bludger every run, and then drop the Quaffle; he ended up with negative twelve points. Most other players managed to break even, but Angelina Johnson's stellar performance kept her and Katie the top two, with a mediocre fourth-year holding third place.

Apparently the only person with a last name starting higher than 'S' was Ginny, so Alicia Spinnet went right before she did. Ginny's attention was completely focused on this, because she was fairly confident that she could out-fly the person currently occupying the third place — but if Alicia did better than that person, and took third, she might not be able to make the team.

Watching from the ground, Ginny could tell that Alicia's performance was good, but she made several mistakes. While she never dropped the Quaffle, Wood intercepted two of her four throws and she got hit by a Bludger twice. That gave her a total of four points, giving her the third-highest score and making Alicia the person Ginny had to beat.

While Alicia returned to the ground Wood flew over to where Fred and George were hovering in midair, laughing and trying to hit each other with their bats. Wood pulled up next to them and began to talk furiously; they were much too far away for Ginny to hear the conversation.

"What're they talking about?" Ginny wondered out loud.

"Wood's probably making sure they won't go easy on you," Harry answered. "Looks like they're done," he added as Wood flew off and the two twins separated. "Better get up there. Good luck."

Harry gave her hand a quick squeeze; Ginny quickly mounted her Nimbus and flew off so that no one would see her face, which had turned a nice shade of red. Ginny had _thought_ she had gotten over her thing about Harry, but maybe —

"Catch!" Fred — who was the Beater assigned to guard Ginny — yelled as he threw the Quaffle to Ginny, who caught it and tucked it in tight against her chest. She proceeded at a relatively slow speed to the side of the pitch opposite of the hoops Wood was guarding, taking deep breaths of the cold air to calm her nerves. Ginny saw Wood draw his wand, and a silver ball flew from his wand up into the air, where it exploded with a loud bang.

It was time. Keeping the Quaffle securely tucked under her right arm she leaned forward, pouring all the speed she could into the Nimbus. Her broom took off like a rocket and even Fred, who had seen Ginny on the broom before and was expecting it, was left behind as she zoomed past him before he could even start to accelerate. George was taken by equal surprise, and his hasty Bludger hit didn't come anywhere near Ginny. Crossing the length of the field faster than she could have believed possible she found herself within shooting distance of the hoop. Trying to get a little extra speed out of it, she started to fake throwing it at the leftmost hoop.

Why Wood bought her ruse and darted over and down to the wrong hoop Ginny would never know. She did have a guess however: in her opinion Wood probably thought that she was a little girl who had rarely touched a broom, except for the one her rich and famous friend had given her. Whatever the reason, she threw it at the right hoop, and with the speed of the Nimbus behind her Wood couldn't shift position in time. As Ginny looped around the goal posts and headed back to the opposite end, she thought she saw Harry on the ground, clapping.

She was not so lucky on her second run. Fred, George, and Wood were prepared this time, and the twins were putting up a terrible fight, the whacks of bats on Bludgers audible as they hit them at each other; after Fred slipped a Bludger past George's defense and hit him in the stomach; Ginny had to wonder if they were going easy on her, despite what the team captain had ordered. When she reached the goals she tried directly for the same hoop, hoping Wood wouldn't think she'd go twice for the same one — but he was prepared. The Keeper easily caught it, giving Ginny only one more point.

Her third try answered the question of whether the twins were going easy on her or not. Ginny took a different route, flying high at a rate her protector, Fred, could not match. George's Bludger could, though, and Ginny was jolted as the Bludger hit her in the shoulder. If it had been full strength she may have been knocked off her broom, but as it was she just lost a point. Wood intercepted Ginny's toss again, but the Bludger hit negated that point.

Ginny circled around to the opposite end again, feeling more nervous than ever. She had three points, which meant she had three options: Loose points or gain nothing, resulting in her loss; gain a point, resulting in a tie; and last was to gain two points, which would get her on the team. Actually, getting two points was most likely the only way to get on the team, because in the event of a tie Wood would decide the winner, and he would almost certainly choose Alicia because of her history with the team.

Tucking the Quaffle under her arm again Ginny starting moving at as fast a pace as Fred could follow keeping her protector with her. It was rather like a match of tennis, with the two twins hitting the Bludger; Fred at George, George at Ginny which was intercepted by Fred, and so on. The only problem was getting it past Wood. It was too bad that Fred couldn't hit a Bludger at Wood, Ginny thought.

And then an idea popped into her head, surprising her enough that she almost dropped the Quaffle; fumbling but not dropping it, Ginny turned around and flew right between the twins, right into the path of the Bludger. Executing an upwards loop which aimed her back at Oliver Wood she heard the Bludger whoosh by her head, missing only by inches. Ignoring the startled cries of the two Beaters she pushed her broom to its maximum speed, heading right at Oliver with the Bludger trailing no more than six feet behind her, slowly gaining. While zooming at Wood and the goals, she tried to memorize the exact positions of the goal hoops, knowing she'd need it.

When Ginny was twenty feet away she pulled up tightly, performing another loop that would send her away from the goals. The Bludger was slightly less nimble than the Nimbus, and as it trailed behind Oliver dodged to get out of its path. Inverted, vertical, feeling the forces of gravity during the loop and not able to see the goal hoops, Ginny blindly threw the Quaffle behind her, using the mental picture in her mind to aim.

Ginny pulled a long turn around, knowing that her two brothers would quickly grab the Bludger. When she made her way back to the hoops she looked questioningly at the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, who held up two fingers.

He hadn't blocked it; she had gotten two points. Ginny was on the team.

ooo

Eating dinner in the Great Hall, Ginny felt a mix of elation and disappointment. She was happy — no; ecstatic might be a better word — about being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. On the other hand, Harry had reverted to his angry, rather self-centered mood when they passed a pair of Hufflepuffs discussing Sirius Black.

But while Harry may not have been the most cheerful person at the moment, that didn't mean she was alone. Hermione was obviously happy for Ginny, and the twins kept appearing and disappearing, both congratulating her and jokingly teasing her alternatively. Ron had been in deep thought from the moment Ginny got back to when dinner started, and seemed unable to decide whether to be jubilant about his sister making the team she had really wanted to be on — or to be angry that his _little_ sister had joined a sport that routinely sent players to the hospital wing.

While Ginny was finishing up the last bit of food on her place, Hermione nudged her gently and motioned to Ginny's right, where Alicia was walking down the corridor between two tables, moving towards Ginny. Ginny stood up as Alicia drew nearer, not sure whether to apologize or just wait for the older girl to make the first move.

To Ginny's great surprise Alicia extended her right hand, which Ginny tentatively took and gave a friendly handshake. "Congratulations," Alicia said softly. "You earned it."

"Er, thanks," Ginny responded; having not interacted with Alicia before she had no ideas on the former Chaser's views on the Chamber of Secrets incident. "You're not mad at me?"

"I'll miss playing," Alicia admitted, "but if someone can't make the game I can always be called in as backup. Good luck this year."

And with that Alicia Spinnet turned around and marched off, leaving a confused but not unhappy Ginny in her wake.

ooo

With what had mostly been a great day behind her Ginny had completely forgotten about Riddle, so it came as a fairly nasty shock when she woke up in her room at the Burrow again.

"Congratulations on making the team," Riddle said, standing in the far corner of the room. "Quidditch is a silly and pointless pastime, of course, but your position will buy you popularity, and that walks hand in hand with power."

Ginny sat up in bed; the sheets slipped down from her chin, but she didn't bother to pull them back up because she had a feeling that she'd have to stand up anyway. "I didn't try out for the team so I could be popular, Tom."

His named slipped out of her mouth before she realized what she had called him, and a slight grin twisted Riddle's mouth. "You haven't called me Tom since we corresponded in the diary, Ginevra," he observed.

Ginny was mortified, not because she had said his first name but because she was _blushing_ in embarrassment about it; there was no reason why he should make her feel this way.

"So what's it going to be tonight?" Ginny asked while dodging his comment.

"A story," Riddle replied, striding over to the bed and sitting down. "Come sit next to me."

Reluctantly Ginny left the comfort of her covers and moved over to sit next to him, trying to keep as far away from him as possible while still doing what he said.

"Have you ever heard of Grindelwald?" Riddle remarked.

"He was Dark Wizard, wasn't he?" Ginny answered. "Took Dumbledore to beat him. He must have been a damn sight more powerful than you considering it just took a little boy to get rid of you."

The words coming out of her mouth before she fully thought them over again, Ginny braced herself for Riddle's retribution — but it did not come.

"You truly are a spitfire," he observed. "You would be best to watch your tongue lest you say something you will regret. But as it happens you are right. I have no respect for my semi-corporal form that is cowering out there in fear of the Ministry. He should have been better than that. Now all that's left of Lord Voldemort that has any _real _value is me. But since your little hero, Harry Potter, sliced the diary in half…you have my memories, my dear. And with memories being all that are left the road ahead is not an easy one."

Ginny blinked. While she was admittedly finding it hard to anticipate Riddle, saying that the he had no respect for the Voldemort in the real world was the last thing she would have expected. Just as surprising was what he said about the memories; when he had spoken he had the distinct look of someone who was talking to themselves and she wondered if he had let slip something he hadn't meant to.

"Surprised?" Riddle asked with a chuckle in his voice, referring to his comment about the other Voldemort. "Eventually you'll understand."

"Can we get on with the story?" Ginny asked.

"Very well," he said. "The _exact_ details of this story may be slightly apocryphal — do you know that word? Yes? — slightly apocryphal, but I assure you the essentials are true. During the reign of Grindelwald there was a small village called Old Jormire, with maybe no more than eighty people in it — and about twelve of them were magical, divided into three families. One was a mix of Half-Bloods and Mudbloods, with family ties all around the village. The other one had an Auror and his wife, plus their two children. The last one, the last one were all purebloods: a mother, a father, a teenage boy and a little girl just a few months younger than you. Blood traitors, all of them, because they were friends of the Muggles and filth. This did not go unnoticed, and one day Grindelwald's followers came to see to the situation."

Riddle paused dramatically, and then stood up. He walked a few feet away and then turned around to face her, his arms crossed. "They burned down the village," Riddle continued. "The Aurors were pureblood, but because they put up a fight their family was slaughtered along with the Mudbloods, the Blood-traitor half-bloods, and all the Muggles. And then they turned to the Purebloods. It was determined that they were Blood-traitors and the family was killed, save one — the little girl. She was deemed to be too young to be responsible for her actions, so they took her away with them."

When Riddle stopped again Ginny was dismayed to realize that she was holding her breath, caught up in his tale. "And?" she prompted.

Riddle smiled and shook his head. "I will tell you more of the story a different night, my dear. But I think I shall let you get some sleep this night."

Riddle walked towards her, leaned down and kissed her forehead gently with cold lips —

— And Ginny was awake again, in her bed at Hogwarts. Opening the curtains a little she could see that it was still dark outside, meaning that he actually had cut their time off in the middle of the night. She might actually be able to get some sleep.

But even when she bundled herself up in blankets and lay down, she couldn't fall asleep. The place on her head where Tom —no, Riddle — had kissed her was still cold, and no matter how hard she rubbed that spot the feeling wouldn't go away.

ooo

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Ginny on the walk down to breakfast.

"I'm fine," Ginny said automatically. "Why do you ask?" she added, curious as to why Hermione would ask that.

"You look like you've rubbed some of the skin off of your head," Hermione answered. Ginny paused next to a reflective suit of armor and took a look. Hermione was right; she had tried to get that feeling off her head so much that she had rubbed her forehead raw.

"Don't know how that happened," Ginny lied. She hadn't yet confided in anyone but Harry about her dreams with Riddle, but it seemed that if she wanted someone to talk to she might have to look to someone else, probably Hermione. Harry seemed really upset about the recent revelation about Black, and Ginny suspected that he would not be the best person to talk to for a little bit.

"Do you have something you want to talk about?" Hermione inquired as if she was reading Ginny's mind.

"No," Ginny said, feeling unable to go back and explain the whole thing right now. "I'm good."

ooo

After breakfast Ginny went to her first class of the day, Potions. Except for his promise about the weekend assignment — which he honored, to her slight surprise — Snape treated her no different than usual, but Ginny thought that the Potions Master may have been glancing at her when he thought she wasn't looking, as if to check on her. Ginny knew about a few instances where Snape had almost seemed to read Harry's mind, and she was wondering just how much he knew.

Leaving class with eight inches of an essay due the next day, Ginny took three steps in the direction of her Transfiguration class before she realized that she just didn't want to go to class.

So she didn't. Trying to look as casual and innocent as possible she joined a large group of Ravenclaw Third-years that were heading out of the castle to what she presumed to be a Care of Magical Creatures class. Once outside she just changed direction and headed towards a heavily wooded area far away from the castle, being wary of the Dementors. A few times she felt a slight chill and gripped her wand tight, but by the time she reached the large patch of trees she hadn't encountered any of the guards of Azkaban.

Ginny made her way to what looked like a very comfortable tree sat down in front of it, leaning her back against it. It was a little closer to the castle than she would have liked, but with the Dementors prowling around she didn't dare to go any farther. While it was slightly cold out the sun was shining, and since she had her robes on the temperature was just about right. Reaching into her book bag, she withdrew her Potions book, not sure if she was going to work on her assignment or not. She had just opened it to the right page when she heard a snapping twig behind her. Jumping up, wand in her hand, she whirled around to find a giant black dog walking out of a group of trees. Her first, irrational thought being that it was the Grim that Harry had been warned about in his Divination class, and she started so badly that she nearly dropped her wand. But on a second glance she could see that the dog was not the Grim. It was just a dog, albeit a very large one. It had a black, shaggy coat, and had a bear-like appearance. The dog was frightening at first, but as it approached Ginny, she saw that it was neither growling nor snarling; it was shaking from its long snout to its bushy tail, looking miserable. Ginny sighed.

"You ran into a Dementor, didn't you?" she asked pityingly. The dog whined in response. Ginny tentatively held out a hand to the dog, palm up; the great black dog sniffed it, and then licked her hand once with a coarse tongue. In spite of what had happened to her last night Ginny giggled, and the dog shivered again.

"Poor boy — you are a boy, aren't you?" Ginny took a quick look to confirm. "Yep."

It was then that she noticed that the dog was so thin that its ribs were painfully obvious. Feeling sorry for the dog, she reached into her bag and rummaged around to try to find any food; all she could find was a piece of Honeydukes chocolate, but Ginny thought that she had once heard that you weren't supposed to give dogs chocolate.

"I don't know if chocolate is good for dogs —" she started to say, but the dog leapt forward and eagerly grabbed the candy out of her hand, swallowing the whole piece without chewing it.

A smile tugged at the corner of Ginny's lips. "You're hungry, aren't you? I wish I had more food to give you, but I don't."

The dog lay down on his belly, his head between his paws. Ginny cautiously reached her hand over the dogs head, rested it behind the giant furry ears, and gently started scratching. The dog gave a sigh of contentment, and rolled over onto his side. One of his back legs started twitching involuntarily.

"If you're here again tomorrow I can get you more food," Ginny offered, feeling rather silly for talking to a dog as if it could understand her. When the dog's tail started thumping the ground, she smiled. "You need a name, don't you?"

The dog scrambled to his feet and sneezed suddenly, and then looked up at Ginny expectantly.

"Got a case of the sniffles?" Ginny asked. "Well, you're really black…how about Blackie?"

The dog cocked its head then gave what looked uncannily like a shrug.

"Blackie it is, then," Ginny said. Putting her Potions book away she lay down, and the dog lay down near her. Over the course of the next few hours she started talking to the dog, first just to pass the time and then about her problems. The teasing at school, how most of the Gryffindors made her feel like she didn't belong, and most of all about Riddle.

The dog seemed like an attentive listener to Ginny, offering whines of sympathy or an occasional thump of the tail. It was almost as if he could understand her, but Ginny knew that people tended to anthropomorphize their pets, and she was most likely doing the same for this dog.

When Ginny finally stopped talking she glanced up at the sky — and noticed that it was getting dark. She quickly glanced at her watch and noticed that it was almost time for dinner; she had originally intended to be back in time for lunch. She cursed mildly and scrambled to her feet.

"I'll come back for a little bit tomorrow," she promised. "You'll be here?"

The half-question, half-statement was answered with a single bark. Ginny stooped down to give the dog one last scratch behind the ears, and then ran as fast as she could towards the castle.

ooo

_A/N: As always reviews are appreciated, especially if you catch a mistake I made._


	15. Her First Match

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: This chapter was a larger chapter split in two, so the next should be up soon. Please take a look at the note at the bottom of the page after reading the chapter. Thanks, and happy holidays!_

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Fifteen: Her First Match **

It took Ginny long enough to sneak back into the castle that almost everyone had left the dinner tables when she got to the Great Hall. Glad that Ron hadn't seen fit to stay until every last bit of food was gone she grabbed a few pieces of food that could be stored in her bag and scooted out of the hall, waking quickly to the common room.

She had made it almost all the way when she ran into Harry, who looked relieved. "Where were you all day?" he demanded. "You weren't there during lunch, and nobody's said they've seen you since this morning."

"Ah," Ginny started uncomfortably. "I…I skipped classes."

Ginny was glad that she had run into Harry instead of Hermione, because while the latter would have been very upset with the very notion, Harry seemed to take it in stride. "Okay," Harry acknowledged. "But what were you _doing_ all day?"

"Talking to a stray dog I found," Ginny answered simply. "I needed someone to talk to."

Ginny regretted her words immediately as Harry averted his eyes, looking ashamed. "I guess I've been too focused on Black to be a good friend over the last couple days, haven't I?" Harry said guiltily.

"No," Ginny corrected, "that's not true. You had — _have_ a perfectly good reason to be upset about what you learned."

They stood in silence for a moment before Harry spoke. "Want to talk about your day, then?"

ooo

It felt distinctly different when Ginny told Harry about everything that had happened, as opposed to the dog she had dubbed Blackie. However smart the dog seemed to be Ginny knew he couldn't understand her, so she had little problem getting the uncomfortable parts off of her chest. With someone who did understand her, it was different — but she still needed it.

"I don't really want to go to bed," Ginny admitted back in the common room. "I think he let that thing about being just memories slip —"

"_Just_ memories?" Harry interrupted. "Wasn't that all he was back in the diary?"

Ginny paused for a second. She hadn't thought about that; Riddle's admission implied that there had been more than memories. "Yeah," Ginny said slowly. "I don't know if memories could have possessed me like he did, or if memories can get a solid body of their own, like he almost did. Then again…"

Ginny turned to Harry and looked him in the eyes. "Memories are bad enough."

Harry had no response for that. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fire, before Ginny suddenly spoke up. "Can I borrow your cloak and the map?"

ooo

Unlike last time Ginny didn't skip the entire day of school. At breakfast she crammed food into her book bag — pastries, pieces of bread, anything that would survive a few hours in that cramped space.

Her classes before lunch she decided it was best to go to, forcing her to make up some answers for Professor McGonagall about her previous absence, but right after lunch she had double History of Magic. Like the vast majority of Hogwarts students she was never able to stay awake for more than five minutes in that class, and as a consequence had no notes. Unlike Harry and Ron, who had Hermione's diligent note taking to fall back on, Ginny could not rely on anyone in her year to help her. The only thing that was saving her was the fact that Hermione had kept all of the previous year's notes and work, and after much begging had reluctantly agreed to have them sent from her house for Ginny's use.

So why go? It was a bad habit to get into, Ginny knew that, but she wouldn't really be missing anything…and she had promised to bring food to the dog.

With those two excuses in mind, Ginny slipped out of the castle and made her way down to the spot where she had encountered the dog. Since Harry had agreed to lend her his Invisibility cloak and the Marauders' Map she had an easier time getting away from the castle than last time, her only delay dodging Dementors. When she was about fifty feet away from the patch of trees she took off the cloak and walked the remaining distance, cloak in her right hand, map and wand in her left, and bag slung over her shoulder. When Ginny slipped between the first pair of trees she could make out a dark shape, and when she got closer the dog came into view.

"Hey Blackie," she greeted, and the dog wagged its tail furiously. Ginny smiled and stuffed the cloak into a pocket, the dog's eyes following it. Ginny sat down and was about to put away the map, but the dog had trotted over to her and was peering intently over her shoulder at it.

"Want to take a look?" Ginny asked, holding out the map a bit. The dog put its nose up to the map like it was going to smell it, but instead just stayed like that, almost like he was looking at it.

"That's Harry Potter," Ginny said as she located a dot in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "You see the names?" she added, feeling slightly foolish for explaining all of this to a dog. "He's right there. And that's my brother Ron next to him…and Professor Lupin is moving all around the class; I don't know what he's doing."

The dog shifted its head over to point its nose at the dot representing Harry, and blew some air through its nostrils. The dog then started to bring its head around to move away from the map — and froze. The dog started to growl fiercely, lips curling back to reveal formidable teeth.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, alarmed at this behavior; as far as she could tell the dog was getting excited about the Gryffindor boy's dormitories, although why she had no idea. Hoping to avoid angering the dog Ginny tapped the piece of parchment once with her wand and said, "Mischief Managed"; the map disappeared, the dog stopped growling, and Ginny stowed the map in her bag. As she was about to close it she remembered the food, and started to take it all out of the bag. The dog was clearly starving, with ribs so prominent that the dog in some ways resembled a skeleton. But even in its food-deprived state the dog took all the food gently when handed to him, not snapping it up.

After they had both finished eating (Ginny had saved in a particularly sugary pastry for herself) she sat down next to the dog, gently scratching it behind the ears as she talked.

"I don't know what he's trying to do," Ginny admitted as the dog thumped its tail in appreciation of the scratches. "Tom — Riddle — he keeps saying that I'm perfect for something, but he just won't say _what_."

The dog gave a long, sorrowful whine and lay down, putting its immense head in Ginny's lap. Ginny patted the dog on the top of its head, the sympathetic reaction appreciated.

"Not everything this year is bad," Ginny added after realizing how gloomy she had made her life sound. "I mean, I'm friends with Harry Potter."

At this the dog perked up, raising its head to the level of Ginny's and staring directly into her eyes. It gave a low, inquisitive whine and Ginny felt compelled to explain.

"He's a really good friend," Ginny said, "as good as Hermione is. But the thing is, I kinda — I kinda like —"

Ginny's face turned scarlet red in what her father jokingly referred to as the 'Weasley Blush', and the dog tilted its head to one side curiously. Ginny looked down, trying to regain her composure. It was just a dog — a smart dog, but a dog. She could tell it anything.

"Well," Ginny started again, "when I was _really_ young, maybe six or seven, I started to get really interested in Harry Potter. He's a famous wizard, about a year older than me," she explained. "The more I knew, the more I started to really like him…and then my brother Ron wrote home from Hogwarts saying they were best friends. After his first year was over and I found out that he was going to be staying at my house for a bit, I got all exited — I never got a chance to wear it, but I even got out a dress to wear when he first came to my home, can you imagine me in a dress? Even though I had never met him I, well, I guess I fancied him. And then he came and we went to school and became friends, and it just got worse."

The dog made no noise or movement, prompting Ginny to continue. "After the Chamber I thought I got over him," Ginny explained. "I really did. I made some progress: I can talk when he's around, and I don't blush whenever he looks at me."

The dog moved one of its giant paws to rest on Ginny's lap, and she idly scratched it.

"I didn't get over him, though," Ginny admitted, for some reason feeling compelled to keep talking. "I thought I did, over the summer, when I was feeling so horrible. I didn't believe that I _deserved_ to be rescued from that Chamber, and I was in such a bad place that I didn't think about him…but then he came over to my house, and he made things better. And then I started to fancy him again, and it's been getting worse as the year goes on. It's really frustrating, y'know? Why spend all this time wanting to be with someone that doesn't have a reason to feel the same way?"

At this the dog snorted loudly and looked away.

"It's true," Ginny insisted. "Take Hermione, for example. She's much smarter and prettier than I am; Harry's known her longer, and likes her a lot better."

The dog barked once at that statement and flopped down on its side, looking rather weary.

"Fine," Ginny said with a slight smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "Be that way."

ooo

From what Harry could tell in the two weeks after the Quidditch tryouts, life was going better for Ginny. Harry had figured out a while ago that if someone did something exciting, people could forget grudges they had been holding only hours ago — this had happened to him in the days after rescuing Ginny from the Chamber. And while being on the Quidditch team, Gryffindor house's pride and joy, wasn't enough to make her instantly popular a fair amount of the Gryffindors seemed not to remember that she was mixed up in anything particularly bad last year.

As far as he could tell she wasn't going to her History of Magic classes — hard to blame her on that one — and had been going to spend time with this dog "Blackie", which she had obviously taken to; Harry had started to wonder if she was going to try and take it home when the school year was over. And from what she had told Harry, Riddle was rarely appearing and wasn't doing anything bad when he did. While it was easy for her to slip out of class (nearly everyone else was either sleeping or daydreaming), she still needed Hermione's old notes. Harry had been expecting Hermione to refuse to supply the younger witch with the notes once she learned Ginny wasn't going to class, but Hermione was too wrapped up in her work to notice Ginny's absences, and when Harry had taken a peek at her schedule he had no idea how she managed to fit it all into a school day.

And while the weather started to get chilly, so did the atmosphere between Ron and Hermione. It seemed that half the time Harry saw them they were having a row about Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, and his interest in Scabbers. But even that couldn't drag his spirits down as the first Quidditch match of the year arrived. Scheduled against Slytherin it would be the first time Ginny played in an actual game. Fred and George had been spying on the Slytherin team practices, and they were training to beat their every move.

Harry still chuckled when he thought about the Slytherin move to keep Gryffindor off balance. They had claimed that they couldn't play because their Seeker, Draco, was unable to use the arm slashed by Buckbeak; the match would then turn to Hufflepuff, which Gryffindor was not prepared for. Unfortunately for the Slytherins, Professor McGonagall had been walking the halls and had seen Draco using the 'mauled' arm that was supposed to be in a sling. Fifty points were deducted, and Slytherin was now to play even if the whole team came down with Dragon Pox.

The morning before the match Harry was making sure to eat a hearty breakfast: Oliver had warned the team that conditions were so bad that they could be up there for many hours, and it wasn't good to get hungry while trying to play a match.

"Eat up," Harry said to Ginny when he noticed that he hadn't eaten any food. "You're gonna need to have something."

"Not hungry," Ginny replied nervously.

Wondering if there was something else to her behavior, Harry lowered his voice to a whisper and spoke in her ear. "Nothing related to Voldemort, is it?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. Haven't seen him in over two weeks. I've just never played an actual Quidditch match before, and that's —"

"Nerve-racking?" Fred, who had crept up on Harry and Ginny, suggested. "Terrifying?"

"Vomit inducing?" supplied George, right next to Fred. "Making-you-have-thoughts-about-jumping-off-the-astronomy-tower-if-you-lose-the-match—ing?"

Ginny didn't look at her brothers, and Harry turned to them. "Go easy on her, it's her first game. You left _me_ alone first my match."

"But you were Harry Potter, weren't you?" George said, as if it should be obvious.

"Gin-Gin here's just our little baby sister," Fred explained. "It's only proper that we make her as nervous as possible."

"And embarrass her," George pointed out, for Ginny's face had turned bright red at the sound of her nickname.

"Get outta here or I'll let Malfoy catch the Snitch," Harry threatened; the twins walked away, chuckling to themselves all the time.

"I'm sure you'll do good, Ginny," Hermione said reassuringly from across the table (she had taken a break in her studying for the game). "Harry says your one of the best fliers he's ever seen."

Blushing possibly even more than before, Ginny started eating a little. Harry leaned closer so that he could whisper.

"Can I call you Gin-Gin?" he joked, earning him a kick in the shins.

ooo

"You didn't have to kick that hard," Harry muttered as the team waited to go out on the field until the last second, wanting to minimize their exposure to the bad weather.

"Don't call me 'Gin-Gin', then," Ginny retorted, causing Harry to smile. "And it wasn't that hard, you sissy."

"It's time!" Wood shouted, and the Quidditch team marched out of the changing room and into a torrential downpour of rain. Harry could hardly see Oliver approaching the Slytherin captain to shake hands, and he was only ten feet away. Both captains did their best to break the other's hand, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle: they were off… and ten minutes later they all landed again, Oliver having called a timeout; the weather was so poor that Harry had no chance of seeing the Snitch. Thankfully, Hermione mysteriously appeared and charmed Harry's glasses to repel the rain and he was back off in chase of the Snitch. But even with his improved vision the Snitch was nowhere to be found — although Draco seemed to be having even more trouble finding his way around, so maybe they were good for something.

Every once in a while Harry would veer down from his orbit above the pitch to take a closer look at how the game was going. Lee Jordan's commentary wasn't audible — the wind whipping past Harry's ears drowned out all noise — but he could still see the score counters: Ninety to thirty, in favor of Gryffindor. Harry saw Ginny make two goals (it was easy to pick her out, for she was by far the smallest player on both teams), whipping past the Slytherin Bludgers and throwing the Quaffle past the Slytherin Keeper, who looked like he had been laughing at the idea of a second-year trying to score a goal against him.

Harry slowed down to watch her fly. She was really good, in Harry's opinion. _Really_ good. He only wished he could watch her fly in a match from a slightly better perspective. It was quite odd, suddenly he couldn't tell what she was doing. Some Slytherin player — only a green dot from Harry's position — was headed straight up in Harry's direction, and Ginny was going vertical to follow him, her Nimbus 2000 losing ground slowly on the Slytherin's 2001. It was a good thing that the rain had just increased in intensity, because Ginny was performing some illegal maneuvers that would have earned Slytherin a handful of penalty shots if McGonagall could see past the curtains of water. As the two players drew closer to Harry he could see that Ginny was forcefully bumping into the Slytherin, at times colliding violently enough that they were both almost knocked off their brooms. After another collision Harry could now make out that it was Draco that Ginny was attacking, and that she was frantically gesturing up whenever she had a free hand.

Harry looked up. Perfectly illuminated in a single ray of sunlight that was pouring through a small hole in the clouds was the Golden Snitch, just hovering there. Both Draco and Ginny must have seen it, and she was trying to stop him from winning the game. Harry started to climb just as Draco managed to use his broom's slightly superior acceleration to pull ahead of Ginny, who kept trailing him. Harry was now pointing straight up, and his broom was starting to gain speed…but Draco was gaining on him quickly. The snitch was no more than three dozen yards away, and Draco was only a few feet bellow Harry. Whoever caught it would win the game, and the last time Harry had looked Gryffindor had only moved up to a seventy point lead, well shy of what was needed to win if the other team got the Snitch.

Harry was now no more than twenty feet away, and was sure that he was going to get it first when he felt a sudden chill permeate the air. He instinctively looked down, past Draco's extremely pale face, and saw a trio of Dementors flying up behind Ginny as if they too were in pursuit of the Snitch. The world started to fade out and Harry heard screaming in his ears; the last thing he remembered before blacking out was the Snitch whizzing past his head, unclaimed.

ooo

The first thing that Harry processed upon waking up was that it was a lot warmer than it had been a few seconds ago. And brighter. Opening his eyes he saw a blurry image of some figures standing around a bed that he was lying on, and then someone pressed a pair of glasses into his hands. The world came into focus, and he saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team (minus Oliver), Ron and Hermione clustered around him.

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked anxiously, speaking slowly as if he might have trouble understanding her.

"Brilliant," Harry said sarcastically. "What happened?"

"You hit your head," Fred answered.

"Did it knock any sense into you?" George joked, earning a dirty look from Ginny.

"It's not funny," she said softly. "If Dumbledore hadn't used some spell to catch you, you would have died, Harry. It took McGonagall to mend your glasses, they were so messed up from falling so far."

"Dumbledore was scary," Hermione added quietly. "Those Dementors weren't supposed to come inside the castle grounds. I've never seen him so mad."

"And the match?" Harry asked, bracing himself for the news that Malfoy had caught the Snitch; he, Harry, had missed his chance to grab it, after all.

"Undecided," Ginny answered. "No one can find the Snitch. Madam Hooch used a spell to call it back, but it didn't come. We've been waiting for you to wake up, see if you caught it. Malfoy said you didn't, but he's Malfoy, isn't he?"

"I didn't —" Harry began, intending to say that he hadn't caught it, but he saw Ginny give a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head. "— don't remember," Harry finished. "Hang on, wouldn't Malfoy have caught it?" Harry asked hastily. "He was right behind me when I…"

Harry trailed off, embarrassed and frustrated at himself for fainting again.

George snorted. "He wasn't in a right state to catch anything himself. Judging from the look of him when he landed it looks like he wet his pants."

"Could have just been the rain," Fred said fairly. "Anyway, try and remember something, would you? The suspense is killing Oliver."

"More likely for him to kill himself if he has to keep waiting," George added.

Harry sighed. "I get it, I get it. Hey, did someone grab my broom?"

This was greeted by an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Katie Bell's footsteps as she walked over to Harry's bed and deposited a small bag on it. Harry had a bad feeling about the bag, but he opened it anyway: it contained a pile of twigs.

"It hit the Whomping Willow," Hermione said. "That giant tree on the grounds. And it…it didn't like getting hit. Professor Flitwick brought it back."

Harry stared at the twigs, feeling considerably less bad about it than he would have if it had been his original broom that was lying in pieces in front of him. Ginny had the broom that had been so dear to him, and this destroyed broom had just been a replacement.

"Guess I'll have to buy another," Harry said unenthusiastically. "Thanks for giving it to me."

After another minute or two of talking Angelina and Katie left, followed momentarily by Fred and George. After convincing Hermione that Madam Pomfrey would make sure that he would be fine Ron and Hermione left, leaving Ginny.

"There's no reason to be ashamed of falling off your broom," Ginny said softly as if she was reading Harry's mind. "You remember what Lupin said about why they affect us like that."

"_You_ didn't fall off your broom," Harry pointed out.

"I would have," Ginny said, "but they were going right for you. About the time you started to fall off two Patronuses came up through the clouds and scared them away. It's why I stayed on my broom — and Malfoy did wet himself, I saw him when we landed."

Harry thought that over for a minute. Ginny's admission made him feel better; even though he knew he shouldn't take pleasure in the fact that the Dementors were as bad for her as they were for him, it meant that they were in it together — and that was something that Harry couldn't say about anyone else, not even Ron or Hermione.

"Why'd you shake your head when I was about to say that I hadn't caught the Snitch?" Harry said finally. "I didn't."

Ginny looked slightly guilty when he said this, and quickly glanced left and right to make sure no one was near them. When she was satisfied she pulled out one of the gloves that she had been wearing from a pocket, put it on her right hand, and reached deep into her other pocket in her robes: when she withdrew her hand he could see the Golden Snitch resting there, wings broken.

"You know about flesh memories, right?" Ginny asked, and looked surprised when Harry shook his head. "Oh. Well, all that time when I wasn't allowed to play Quidditch when my brothers were playing it I'd read Charlie's old books. You _should_ know about this, you being a Seeker."

Harry cleared his throat. "Can we get past my failings in knowing every detail of Quidditch and to the part where you're holding the missing Snitch in your hand?"

"Right. Well, a Snitch can recognize the person who caught it," Ginny explained. "That way it's easy to resolve any dispute as to who caught it. I was chasing Malfoy, who was chasing you, and the Dementors were going after you. You missed the Snitch, Malfoy freaked out and forgot to grab the Snitch, and I kinda grabbed it without thinking. I couldn't just let it go when McGonagall started to take you to the hospital wing; Malfoy would catch it. So…"

"So you broke the wings in case it tried to get away, hid it in your pocket, made sure only to touch it with the gloves you were wearing, and walked off the field with it," Harry finished. "Is that legal? For a Chaser to catch the Snitch?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't think so. I was going to tell Madam Hooch about it, but then I heard Malfoy talking about you. After he recovered he was laughing about your fall, and saying it was too bad you didn't die…I couldn't let him get it."

Ginny tossed the Snitch to Harry, who instinctively caught it with his right hand; the Snitch went still for a few seconds before resuming its feeble attempts to get away.

"You caught it," Ginny said with a smile. "Just say you found it in your back pocket; that would explain the crushed wings."

And with that Ginny walked out of the room, leaving Harry wondering just what kind of player they had brought onto the team.

ooo

As Ginny walked up from the common room to the girl's dormitory, she decided that she felt pretty good about the day. Harry had been released later in the evening, and had walked into a minor party thrown in his honor (organized by the twins) when he entered the common room. His story about finding the Snitch in a pocket had been bought with some skepticism by Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall, and complete disbelief by the Slytherins — but Gryffindor scored the victory, and that's what counted. Ginny didn't really consider it cheating, because from her view she knew that Harry would have definitely caught the Snitch if it weren't for the Dementors.

It had been weeks since Riddle appeared at night, so once again Ginny was surprised to wake up in the replica of her room. Riddle was sitting in a chair that didn't exist in her real room, his foot idly tapping the floor.

"I hope you enjoyed your break," Riddle said, standing up. "It is not often that I will give you time off."

Ginny said nothing, and Riddle went on talking. "Excellent performance at the match today. I was very impressed by your cheating. The end justifies the means, after all. The Sorting Hat was correct: you should have been in Slytherin, my dear."

"I think I'd die first," Ginny shot back.

"Typical," Riddle said dismissively, not showing any of the anger Ginny had expected. "You lash out at even the truth. Did the Sorting Hat not tell you that you should be in that house?"

_Oh, very interesting. You would make a good Slytherin, a very excellent Slytherin, you would be best to be put in that house…_

Ginny shivered as the Sorting Hat's words flitted through her head.

"You cannot lie to me," Riddle said, taking a few steps over towards her bed. "That is not possible. You are only lying to yourself, which wastes my time. Do not do that."

"Alright," Ginny said slowly. "I won't."

"Good," Riddle said, and he sat down on the corner of the bed farthest away from Ginny, so that his side was facing her. Ginny didn't know why she did it — perhaps she was losing her nervousness about her state of dress — but she sat up in bed and when the covers dropped to her waist she didn't bother to pull them back up.

"I presume you have been wondering why I have been telling you a story designed for little children," Riddle said, not looking directly at Ginny.

"Yeah," Ginny admitted, although she wouldn't exactly have classified it as a children's story.

"It has a meaning beyond the simple 'moral of the story' that most tales include; you shall find it out in due time," Riddle said. "Now, do you remember where we last were?"

"Yes," Ginny said after a moment of thought. "They had, um, they had just captured the girl. The little girl."

"Correct," Riddle confirmed. "After that the followers Apparated to one of Grindelwald's strongholds and held her captive there," Riddle recited, continuing the story. "One night, a couple of weeks after they had taken her from her dead parents, the followers got drunk. One thing led to another…it might be best said that they displayed an appreciation for the younger age that night, just like I do."

It was quite odd, Ginny thought, to listen to Riddle tell his story. Under normal conditions his handsome face and persuasive voice would make for a nice, relaxing story. But the combination of the content and who she knew him to be cast him in a different light entirely, and Ginny did not want to hear the story anymore — she just wanted to wake up. His acknowledgment of his 'appreciation for the younger age' only made Ginny more nervous to spend time around him.

"Unfortunately," Riddle went on, "one of the followers did not think what was going on 'right' or 'proper' and reported this to Grindelwald right away. The dark wizard, who had no interest in the girl himself, harshly punished the five involved and took the girl under his wing. For the next three months she was fed, cared for, and had her needs served to by those in Grindelwald's inner circle."

For the first time since he had sat down Riddle looked at Ginny, his grey eyes unreadable. "We will now practice every night," he said in a low tone. "Every night of every month for however many years it takes. You will master the spells, my dear."

Ginny struggled to repress a shiver. The sleep she got after being with him was one that provided no rest or comfort, and the thought of doing it every night…

"Okay," Ginny said, the only thing she could really say.

"Then we are done for the night," Riddle said, and Ginny knew she was about to wake up when she still had a question —

"Tom, wait!" she shouted, his first name slipping out just as easily as it had the time before.

Riddle turned around slowly, and by the look in his eyes Ginny see that by telling him what to do she had angered him hoping to skip past that, she plowed on.

"Can you just tell me what you want?" Ginny pleaded, dismayed to hear a note of desperation in her voice. "What do you want from me?"

For the first time since the train Riddle smiled, but it was that of a wolf watching a sheep.

"_Everything_," he said —

And Ginny was back in her bunk, her heart pounding. Riddle's smile was burned into her mind, as was his word.

_Everything._

She had no doubt that he was telling the truth.

And that terrified Ginny Weasley.

Any danger for that night may have been over, but even after light filtered through the curtains and the she could hear the sound of other girls making their way downstairs for breakfast, Ginny didn't move.

ooo

"Has anyone seen Ginny?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione the next morning. "I don't see her anywhere."

Ron looked around the Gryffindor common room, filled with people migrating down to the great hall for breakfast. "No idea," Ron said. "Probably went down to breakfast already."

But even as Ron was saying this, Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. I was down here early, and I didn't see her — oh, that's Caitlyn, she's in Ginny's room."

Hermione hurried over to a second-year that Harry didn't recognize and held a quick conversation that ended with the girl Hermione had called Caitlyn shrugging and walking away.

"What was that about?" Harry asked Hermione as she returned.

"Ginny never left," Hermione answered. "She's still in her bunk."

Harry felt his blood run cold. Ginny had told him what she thought about Riddle, and he had a bad feeling that this was related. "Is anyone else in the dormitory?" Harry inquired. "I could go talk to her."

"No, you couldn't," Hermione corrected him. "There's an enchantment that prevents boys from going into the girls' dormitories. I'll go."

And with that Hermione marched off in the direction of the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

ooo

Hermione Granger prided herself on being smart. Wrapped up in schoolwork as she was, not to mention the stress the Time-Turner put on her, she was having trouble keeping up. It seemed more and more like schoolwork was consuming her life. But now that she was in her third year at Hogwarts, Hermione thought that she had sorted out most of her priorities. If she was asked what to do in a situation like this two years ago, her answer most likely would not include trying to help Ginny.

Last year had changed all that. Hermione had almost died from the Basilisk, but just as important to her was the fact that she could have easily lost Harry and Ginny down in that Chamber. When she had been un-Petrified and informed of exactly what happened, her view on the world changed. It wasn't that she didn't view school as extremely important anymore — Hermione couldn't imagine a situation that would make her forget about school — but that she had come very close to losing two of her best friends without even saying a parting word. That changed things

Lost in thought, Hermione walked past the door to the room Ginny's bunk was in. Backing up a step, Hermione took a right and gently pushed open the door before walking inside. The layout was exactly the same as it was in the room she shared, with the same number of bunks in the same position. Most of the beds had the drapes open, but one in particular had all the curtains drawn tight around it; it didn't take much to figure out that Ginny was in that bed.

Moving over to the bed, Hermione knocked on one of the wooden posts twice. "Ginny?" she said. "Are you in there?"

"Go away," a muffled voice said. Taking a deep breath and reassuring herself that she was doing the right thing, Hermione grabbed one of the curtains and pulled it open.

Inside, facing Hermione, was Ginny, her head resting on a pillow, dark rings under her eyes from lack of sleep.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, and then mentally berated herself for asking herself such a stupid question: Ginny was most certainly not 'okay'.

"Brilliant," Ginny said sarcastically. "Go away."

Hermione checked the time: they had to hurry, or breakfast would be over.

"Ginny, you have to go to breakfast, or at least class," Hermione tried.

Ginny didn't move or talk for a minute, then stood up so suddenly Hermione started.

"_Fine_," Ginny said angrily. "Fine."

Hermione watched as Ginny roughly pulled her robes on over her pyjamas, pushed on her shoes and stalked off, leaving her book bag and school materials behind.

When Ginny was out of sight Hermione sat down on Ginny's bed and sighed. That _really_ didn't work out as she had planned.

ooo

Ginny marched down from Gryffindor tower too late to have any breakfast, and instead went to her first class of the day: Potions. Sitting by herself, Ginny found it impossible to concentrate on what Snape was saying. When everyone flipped open their books and started to gather ingredients, Ginny remembered that she had left her book up in the dormitory.

Zoning out, Ginny had no idea how much of the class had passed when she heard a familiar voice in her head.

"_I don't know why you are so frightened, Ginevra_," the voice of Riddle whispered into her ears.

"Shut up," Ginny muttered under her breath, so as not to attract attention.

"_Many would consider have time alone with me a privilege_," Riddle said. "_And yet you detest it._"

"Shut _up_," Ginny said a little more forcefully, not noticing that she was drawing a few stares.

"_That will change in time_," Riddle continued. "_In a few weeks, a few months, a few years, you will relish__ —_"

"SHUT UP!" Ginny yelled at Riddle.

"_What_ did you say to me, Weasley?"

Ginny blinked, and as the world slid back into focus she noticed that Snape was standing in front of her desk; his expression was somewhere between angry and puzzled.

"Oh," Ginny said. "Sorry. I wasn't talking to you."

Snape glanced significantly from left to right, and Ginny knew what he was saying: there was no one sitting with her, and from his perspective he would have been the only person for her to yell at.

"I wasn't," Ginny insisted. Snape's glance momentarily flickered to a watch on his wrist that looked extremely old and beat-up, and then back to Ginny.

"Really? Twenty points from Gryffindor, and you will stay after class."

Snape turned on the spot and stalked away, and Ginny put her face in her hands. This day wasn't going well.

ooo

Severus Snape wished very dearly that he had never met Ginny Weasley. Up until the previous year had been so simple, but then she came in.

She wasn't a twelve-year old Lily Evans, Snape knew that. And besides the red hair, there wasn't even a huge resemblance between Weasley and Lily; they didn't act exactly the same, and their situations were completely different. Logic told him this. But right now Snape was starting to find himself at a loss for words. After so many years of humiliation during school, lacking anything in the way of snappy comebacks, he was quite proud of the fact that he tended to have a response for any situation…any situation except for one involving this girl, it seemed.

Within a few minutes class was over; his students grabbed their possessions and filed out of the classroom. Snape had no class next hour, which he was thankful for. When the last student was gone Snape waved his wand at the door, which slammed closed and bolted itself. He conjured up a chair and sat opposite her, the table where she should have been making the potion on between them.

"I wasn't yelling at you," the girl said finally.

"Then who _were_ you yelling at?" Snape inquired.

"You know," she said matter-of-factly. "You can read minds — I know you've read mine before."

Snape winced inwardly; he had been hoping that she wouldn't have realized that.

"I don't really care," she said softly, forestalling anything that Snape might have said. "It's all right; you don't have to worry about me caring."

"I don't care about —" Snape started, but the girl cut across him.

"Yes you do," she said, looking up at him. "I don't know why," she went on, "but you're nice to me, unlike you are to Harry or Hermione or Ron."

Snape wasn't sure how to phrase a proper response to that, and he was still searching for words when she spoke again. "I'm not stupid," she started. "I don't know what you want from me in the end, but we wouldn't be sitting down together if you didn't want to know what's going on."

"And what _is_ 'going on'?" Snape said, ignoring the first part of her sentence.

The girl shook her head. "I — I can't talk about it," she mumbled. "Can you do the doe again? She was so wonderful."

Snape hesitated here. He was none too happy that she had seen the doe in the first place: he was exceedingly careful never to produce his Patronus around anyone who had seen Lily's Patronus, or even James'…or even someone who might question why he had a doe, of all animals. But the Weasley girl had already seen it, and looking at it one more time wouldn't reveal the reason to her.

Snape waved his wand, and the doe burst from its tip. This was not an ordinary Patronus: a regular Patronus served the purpose of repelling Dementors or sending messages, and required a happy thought. The times when Snape would conjure up the doe were the times that he was reflecting about the mistakes he had made in dealing with Lily. These were by no means happy memories, but her just being in them turned them bittersweet. His doe was strong enough to provide a physical reminder of his errors when he needed to reflect on them, but in its current state would do no more than distract a Dementor.

The doe pranced up to the girl and stopped in front of her. Snape studied their interactions, watching as the Weasley girl just looked at the Patronus. "Legilimency," he said finally, "is the art of what is commonly known as 'mind reading'. In effect it is viewing each thought, each memory."

"And that's what you've been doing," she finished. "If you — if you really need to know…do it again."

Snape listened intently, for girl was apparently having trouble offering permission; this was quite obviously something very private. Snape did not delude himself that she trusted him enough to confide — they scarcely knew each other — but Snape could only come to the conclusion that she needed to share the information, and if she did not feel able to talk about it then what better than someone who could just wave a wand and find out for themselves? Preparing himself, Snape drew his wand and again performed the spell.

Unpleasant memories, thoughts and intentions poured over Snape, as the Dark Lord that Snape had never known proclaimed his wish to have everything that the girl had. Her fear colored everything he saw so intensely that it was almost painful to view. The doe vanished instantly, and the only sound in the room was the girl's deep breathing; the Legilimency had no doubt brought the most unpleasant of details up to the surface.

"I need help," the girl said so quietly that Snape almost didn't hear her. "I can't do what he wants."

Snape thought for a long moment before responding. "There is such as thing as a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Taken in the appropriate quantities it will cause a night of sleep without interruption. I have some left over for a batch that I delivered to Madam Pomfrey. "

Snape was half-regretting the words even as they came out of his mouth. While the potion should very well cure her problem, she would have to take it every night — and there were issues with that. Snape had heard reports of wizards and witches who had grown addicted to the potion after a few months of continuous usage and had then started to take it in larger quantities than issued: the results had ranged from a very deep sleep to death, which was why he really shouldn't be giving any out. But he saw a spark of hope in the girl's eyes after he finished explaining, and a quick flick of the wand summoned a vial.

"This is enough for two nights," Snape explained, holding up the small vial of liquid. "Divide it into half and drink it immediately before going to sleep, and do not drink more than half of it." He held out the vial which she tentatively took. Snape stood up and paced a few steps over to the door, which unbolted itself. "Put that somewhere safe and go to your next class; tell your teacher that I excuse you for being late," Snape added.

The girl nodded, rose, and moved slowly over to the door. She opened it and was about to walk out when she stopped and turned around. "Professor?" she said tentatively. "Thank you."

"Remember the instructions, Weasley," Snape said in way of reply.

"You can call me Ginny," Snape thought he heard her say, and then the door closed and he was alone again.

"That was very nice of you," the voice from the back of the room said. "Poor girl."

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Go away."

"This better work," the soft voice remarked. "You know what will happen if it doesn't."

"Obviously I do," Snape said dryly. "Now go away."

The voice obliged, as she did about half of the times Snape told her to. Snape sighed and rubbed his temples. Life was getting far too complicated for his liking.

ooo

_A/N: I wanted to explain a bit about the direction the story has taken and give a small warning. If you have no problem/no worries about how the story is going and how it will read in the future, feel free to skip this. If not, please read.  
The Riddle/Ginny relationship — and Riddle's obvious pedophilia — wasn't clear to me as of the first few chapters, which is why I had to go back and update the note at chapter one. I want to give a heads-up: There will be what I consider very disturbing content (it was hard for me to write, anyway) in upcoming chapters, and I will not be issuing warnings about that in the notes preceding the chapters. I feel that elements of that particular plot are integral to the story in general and character development, otherwise I certainly wouldn't be writing it. _

_Thanks for reading, and as always please let me know if you spot errors in my writing._


	16. Blackie

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: PLEASE READ IF YOU REVIEW ANONYMOUSLY:_

_Recently there was an anonymous review that I felt I had to delete, something which I have not had to do before and do not like to do. The content was insensitive/inappropriate to the situation, and the name the reviewer chose left little doubt that those were his/her intentions. I like to have the option of reviewing anonymously available, and ask that if you review this way please keep your review appropriate so that option doesn't have to go away. There are mature topics in this story, and I ask that they be dealt with accordingly. (End 'Please Read')_

_On a different subject, it is sad to see people leaving the story, and I'm glad to see that there are still some of you out there reading this. This chapter would have been up long if it weren't for the fact that I took about three-quarters of it and scrapped it, starting most of it over from scratch. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Sixteen: Blackie**

The day was one of the longest that Ginny had ever experienced. She was told off by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration for not paying attention, ate lunch out of sight from her friends because she couldn't stand to talk to them, and endured a long double Herbology.

She wasn't really sure what had happened with Snape. Considering the way he treated Harry, Ginny wasn't a big fan of his — but Ginny had felt a need to not be alone in the knowledge of what had happened the previous night, and given Snape's abilities he was the easy choice.

Ginny only entered the Great Hall when she was sure that all three of her friends had left, and then scooted inside for a quick dinner of the various deserts that remained on the table. She then found a deserted room and worked on some of her assignments until she was confident that most people had gone to bed, and the headed up to Gryffindor tower. Sure enough, the only ones left in the common room were a few people that she didn't know very well which allowed her to sneak up to her dormitory. Ginny took the potion Snape had given her out of her trunk and lay down on her bed, not even bothering to undress. Ginny carefully drank exactly half of the potion, put it to the side of her bed, lay down, and closed her eyes; within a minute she was asleep.

What either could have been a few hours later or a few seconds later Ginny opened her eyes, expecting to see the red drapes of her bed — and was overjoyed to indeed wake up in her bed, safe and sound. Ginny felt like jumping out of bed and celebrating, but instead she just stayed in place and gave a contented sigh. It seemed almost too good to be true…but Riddle would have shown his face and punished her if it had not worked, and he hadn't done that.

She was free.

ooo

Ginny felt too ecstatic to go to any classes that day. She didn't think she could sit still for a lecture in Transfiguration so she grabbed the map and snuck out of the school and down to that patch of trees where the giant black dog usually was. About half way down she glanced at the map again and froze. She didn't know why a dot all the way up in the castle had caught her eye; perhaps it was because the name shouldn't — _couldn't_ — have been on the map.

Peter Pettigrew, the man who had been dead for over a decade now, was running around the Gryffindor common room. Ginny rubbed her eyes and stared at the dot, wondering if she was reading it right, or if perhaps the map was wrong. Finally deciding that she wasn't thinking straight and had to be imagining it, Ginny put the map away before she had a chance to start doubting her sanity again. Shaking her head she walked the rest of the way to her destination.

"'Lo, Blackie," Ginny greeted as the great dark dog bounded forward. It stopped a few feet away from her and seemed to be studying her expression. Admittedly Ginny was hardly taller than the dog, so she could have been mistaken with that.

"I don't have any food," she apologized, and found a nice place to sit down; the dog sat down on her right side.

Ginny started with what had happened two nights ago, and then made her way to the part that she was so happy about.

"I can't believe I owe all this to Snape," Ginny admitted, stroking the dog's head. "He's never been mean to me, but I never would have guessed that he would go to the trouble to try and fix my problem. I guess I should thank him because, well, Riddle's gone!"

The dog thumped its tail on the ground and licked the side of Ginny's head; she giggled and rested her head on the dog's. "I saw something odd on the map," Ginny said, suddenly remembering. "You remember what I told you about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew? I saw a dot with Pettigrew's name running around the common room."

The dog suddenly perked up at this, and Ginny laughed. "It almost _does_ seem as if you can understand what I'm saying," she mused, scratching him behind the ears. "I like you."

ooo

Possibly the best part of Ginny's day came after dinner. She had eaten far too much and was lounging around on a couch in front of the fire with Harry, who she had just told about the success of the potion. Ginny was watching one of the logs burn down to a cinder, and was quite surprised to feel him absentmindedly take her hand. Ginny glanced down at their hands, and after a few seconds he seemed to realize what he had done and jerked his hand away in surprise; Ginny thought she saw him blushing.

Maybe, just _maybe_, life was going to be alright for her.

ooo

The next few weeks blurred together for Ginny, making her lose track of the individual days. She went to her classes, with the exception of History of Magic, and during those periods that she weren't in class she'd go down and bring Blackie food; she had done this enough times by now that she had stopped using the Marauder's Map. Sometimes during the weekends she'd practice her Patronus with Harry and Professor Lupin, and while neither of them had managed to produce a corporeal Patronus against the Boggart Ginny thought that hers was starting to take a shape.

The bickering between Ron and Hermione had reached all-time high with Crookshanks' latest attempt to kill Scabbers. Ginny was forced to let Harry be the person who attempted to keep the peace now. Ginny had interrupted Hermione while the witch was working on a Transfiguration essay. After enduring a small rant on the difficulties of her assignment on Animagi Ginny had mentioned that Hermione's cat most likely _was_ trying to eat Scabbers. Hermione thereafter refused to speak to Ginny on matters regarding Ron, cats or rats.

Days passed on, and the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff approached. This one was a decidedly better victory for Gryffindor that the game against Slytherin: Ginny and her fellow Chasers got past the Bludgers and the Keeper of their opponents with ease (Ginny was rather proud of that, considering that she had leant her broom to Harry and was using Fred's Cleansweep), and despite the skill of the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory, Harry still caught the Snitch first which made the match three-hundred to eighty. Things were more and more getting better, and while Ginny knew that they could not last forever with Riddle in her mind she was going to enjoy this time while she could.

And Ginny was having a mental dilemma regarding Harry. More and more these days she caught herself wishing that she was something more than just friends with Harry, and wondered if he felt the same way — or at least _could_ feel the same way, even if he hadn't thought about it. She had almost asked him during the party after the Quidditch match was won, but held back for one simple reason: she didn't know if she could handle what would result if he _didn't_ like her like that. At worst they could stop being friends, and as much as Ginny prided herself on being independent she didn't know if she could handle that.

Twelve days before Christmas Ginny found herself the happy owner of a letter from her mother that said she could stay at Hogwarts for the break this year, which is what Harry, Ron and Hermione would be doing. She was a little nervous; this was the first time in her life that she would not be at home for the holidays — and this meant that she had to go looking for presents.

Ginny didn't have any illusions about her family's financial status. If she wanted to get something nice for Harry it couldn't be anything expensive. Hermione was slightly easier; Ginny had sent an owl to her mom, asking for a book she thought Hermione might like to be sent over. She'd think of something at the last minute for Ron (his gift wasn't very important). But she had _no_ idea whatsoever for Harry. She briefly considered a broom, something that Harry dearly needed. He had been reluctant to buy another Nimbus which is why he had been playing on her broom (his former broom) last match, and she on a borrowed broom. While it would have been the perfect present, she had to discard that idea because she had nowhere near enough money to get something like that. She couldn't think of anything else, which was a great frustration to her. Harry had helped her out immensely, and it seemed the least she could do would be to give him a nice present.

Ginny decided to use Blackie as a sounding board for ideas, talking to him as a way of thinking out loud.

"A broom really would be great," Ginny said to the dog. "But it's not just that I can't afford any broom, it's that anything below a Nimbus 2000 in performance wouldn't be worth getting him. But he didn't seem enthusiastic about buying another 2000, and I know he doesn't want a 2001 because that's what Malfoy has. All that leaves is the Firebolt…but my family would have to sell our house to afford that. I might be able to scrounge together a Galleon or two, but that's it."

The dog whapped its tail on the ground, and gave Ginny what seemed like a questioning look.

"I'm not good at making things," Ginny went on, "so a hand-made gift is kinda out of the question…at least on this short notice. In fact, I'm not feeling very creative at all. Any ideas?"

The dog yawned elaborately and poked Ginny's bag with its nose.

"Fine," Ginny said grudgingly, and took out the food she had brought. "Thanks for all the help."

The dog's reply was to make a ham and cheese sandwich disappear in less than five seconds.

ooo

Ginny lay on her bed, not wanting to get up. It was a Saturday morning, now just seven days before Christmas. Ginny had a multitude of reasons for wanting to stay in her peaceful half-asleep state. Right now she didn't have to think about her Transfiguration essay, she didn't have to try and figure out what to get Harry for the holidays, and she didn't have to worry about the upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

Both Ravenclaw and Slytherin had played against Hufflepuff and won (Hufflepuff now had no chance of winning the cup), but Ravenclaw had a better total record. A Slytherin victory meant that in the last match — Gryffindor against Ravenclaw — as long as Gryffindor won they were pretty much assured the cup. This was because Ravenclaw was Gryffindor's only real competitor, and a loss for them would set back their opponent greatly. But Ravenclaw's victory against Hufflepuff had been greater than either of the other two houses, and if they did win the upcoming match final match things would be tough for Gryffindor. Ginny never thought that she'd find herself rooting for the Slytherins…but she just might show up with a green and silver banner to the next game.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tapping at one of the windows. Quickly sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes Ginny looked for the source of the disturbance.

It was an owl. A very handsome-looking owl was hovering outside the window with an air of importance about it. Ginny quickly walked over to the window to let the owl in, and it landed on one of the beds. As Ginny approached it stuck out its right leg regally in her direction, and she could see that there was an envelope attached to it. Ginny picked up the envelope and opened it, revealing a note that had been written on a single, slightly dirty piece of paper in hard to read handwriting. Holding it up to the light, Ginny squinted her eyes and read it through.

.

_Ginny,_

_Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley has received an order for a Firebolt. It has been almost paid for, just one Galleon short of the price. Send that money back with the owl and it will arrive as a Christmas present from both of us._

_Signed,  
A friend of Harry _

.

Ginny read the note four times through to make sure that she understood it correctly, and then scratched her head in confusion. Was this a prank? Had someone sent that owl in the hopes of robbing her of a Galleon? But how would they know that she had wanted to get a Firebolt for Harry as a Christmas gift? And why would someone go to all this trouble just to get a Galleon out of her?

The owl was growing impatient, and Ginny had more questions than she had answers. Deciding to take a leap of faith and hope for the best she opened her trunk, moving aside the carefully piled clothes until she got to the money bag at the bottom.

While Lucius Malfoy had been fined ten thousand Galleons at the trial, the Weasley didn't see much of it. Despite the fact that Ginny had been found innocent on all charges Fudge and the other wizards had in no way viewed her as a victim of the event. Dumbledore managed to get two-hundred Galleons of the money awarded to the Weasleys, which is how Ginny's parents were able to send her to school with a grand total of four Galleons in money. Some had been spent on things like Butterbeer and candy, but she still had two of the gold coins, plus a few Sickles and a handful of Knuts. Grabbing a Galleon she hurried back to the owl, slipped it in the envelope and resealed it. The owl preformed the avian equivalent of a bow, and then flew back out of the window, quickly disappearing from sight. As Ginny closed the window she wondered who could have possibly sent it, if it was sincere.

ooo

The feast on Christmas Eve was a grand occasion. Much like Harry had experienced last year there were only a handful of people at Hogwarts; it seemed that the only Slytherin in the whole school was Snape. The food was good — Harry was eating too much of it — and so was the company, with Hermione sitting on his right and Ginny on his left.

While he was mostly having a great time, part of him was extremely frustrated and even more puzzled. When the feast started he fumbled the plate of butter when Ginny asked for him to pass it, nearly knocked over his glass of Butterbeer when they accidentally brushed legs, and saw an infuriating smirk on Hermione's face whenever he glanced to his right. It got better as the feast went on, but while Harry managed to regain the ability to function normally he was not any closer to figuring out why he was acting this way — it was almost like Ginny had acted when they had first met.

On the way back up to the tower Ron and Hermione had stopped to resume a tabled argument, so Harry and Ginny walked on. They had almost made it to the common room when Ginny grabbed a hold of his arm, halting his process.

"Watch out," she warned. "We almost walked under the mistletoe."

"Thanks," Harry said, and when he looked at Ginny he was suddenly overcome by the strangest feeling. He had a sudden, completely unexplainable, and almost overpowering urge to kiss her. Harry didn't know why — they were friends, after all, and that wasn't what friends did; he had never felt this urge towards Hermione. That didn't seem to matter, though, and he was starting to wonder if he should act on that feeling when Ginny smiled and walked away, leaving Harry standing there.

Harry walked absentmindedly back up to the dormitories and took off his glasses and shirt without thinking. By the time he fell asleep he was still trying — and failing — to figure out why he had wanted to kiss the girl whom he considered to be his best friend.

ooo

"Is he alive?"

"Which one? Harry or Ron?"

"I know Ron's alive, Hermione; that idiot can sleep through anything. I'm talking about Harry."

Harry blinked his eyes, his vision fuzzy without his glasses.

"I think he is," someone who sounded like Hermione said.

"I am," Harry said groggily, sitting up and feeling around for his glasses; he finally found them and shoved them on his nose. "Dunno why you'd think I'm — ah!"

Harry's first sight was that of Hermione and Ginny standing about six feet away from his bed; he instinctively yanked the sheets up to cover his bare chest. "What're you two doing in here?" He demanded, noticing that while Hermione seemed to be having trouble holding in laughter, Ginny was blushing. "Is this a habit of yours, Hermione? Ron said you came up here last Christmas too."

"It's nine o' clock already," Ginny said, as though the fact that Harry had tried to sleep in even a little automatically explained her presence in the boy's dormitories. "We tried yelling, but you two were out like rocks."

"I wonder why," Harry said sarcastically. "Remind me to always wake you up if you decide to sleep in."

Ginny stuck out her tongue and motioned for Harry to get out of bed.

"Harry, go wake Ron up," Hermione said, opening Harry's trunk without asking and started rummaging through it; she came out with a shirt, which she tossed to him.

"Thanks for getting my shirt," Harry said with sarcasm in his voice again. "Mind not going through my stuff?"

"You need to organize," Hermione said, apparently not hearing him. "Your books are all out of order, clothes everywhere; you've got a pair of your underwear right where you keep your ink —"

"Get out of there!" Harry repeated, sliding out of bed now that he had his shirt on.

"Then wake Ron up," Hermione retorted, starting to organize Harry's trunk.

Muttering under his breath, Harry walked over to Ron's sleeping form and shook him slightly. "Ron?" Harry said, now poking him in the face. "Get up. Ron!"

"I'll do it," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "I just read about a new charm — I haven't tried it yet, but it's worth a try."

Harry looked at Ron, and then at Hermione's hand, which now had a wand in it. "Sure," he agreed, backing up a few steps. "Give it a go."

Hermione walked forward until she was about six feet from Ron, waved her wrist, and said, "_Auquaminti_!"

A cloud of hot steam erupted from the tip of Hermione's wand, completely engulfing Ron. Almost instantly there was a shriek of pain and Ron bolted out of his bed, his skin red. "Ow!" he yelled, looking torn between pain and sleep. "Wha's goin' on?"

Hermione covered her mouth with her wand hand. "Sorry," she said finally. "It was supposed to produce a jet of cold water. I think I pronounced it wrong."

"You _think_?" Ron said, firing up. "I'd say you —"

"Give it a rest for Christmas, will you?" Ginny interrupted, looking annoyed. "Ron, just shut up and put some clothes on."

ooo

There was a first-year or two in the common room, but the four mostly had it to themselves. In addition to the trees adorning the Great Hall, Hagrid had dragged up three more trees for the common rooms — it would have been four, but apparently Snape had told Hagrid point-blank that there would be no tree in his common room.

The presents were arrayed at the edges of the tree, and it was fun for Ginny to watch them be sorted out. Her mum had sent the usual Christmas package for everyone, consisting of sweets and sweaters (while Ron didn't like his at all, Ginny considered her light blue sweater to be rather pretty and immediately pulled it on over her head). It turned out that Ginny hadn't been alone in the thought of giving Hermione a book, for three book-shaped packages were tossed to Hermione. Ginny's present for Ron — a very realistic drawing she had made of Ron being attacked by giant spiders, enchanted so that the figure was perpetually running in terror — earned her a dirty look from her brother and gave Hermione a small laughing fit.

Ginny opened her presents from Ron and Hermione — a piece of Honeydukes chocolate and a book on Quidditch history — and then turned to the last one, Harry's. It was a large envelope, and she curiously peeled it open and extracted a photograph from inside. She didn't know who had taken the picture, but it showed Ginny on her broom, dodging a Bludger and throwing the Quaffle past the Hufflepuff Keeper in one of what she considered her best goals this year. Smiling, she held it up to get a better look at it and caught a glimpse of something on the back. Flipping it over she saw five words written in Harry's handwriting.

_Best goal I've ever seen._

Carefully sliding it back into the envelope, Ginny turned to Harry. "Thank you," she said.

"It _was_ the best goal I've ever seen," Harry said with a smile on his face.

Ginny smiled back, dearly hoping that she wasn't blushing. "Harry," she said slowly. "I think something's wrong. You only have two presents."

"Er — yeah," Harry said. "But —"

Ginny held up a finger. "One second," she said, and then got down on her hands and knees and reached very far under the Christmas tree. Ginny had woken up before Hermione, and had come down to the common room to see if the Firebolt actually had come: it had. She had then snuck outside, taken a five-minute ride on it to make sure it worked, and after reluctantly returning to the ground she had shoved it as far under the tree as she could, so that no one could see it. Grabbing the ends of the box with both hands she pulled it out and pushed it over to Harry.

"Here you go," Ginny said happily. Looking slightly suspicious, Harry undid the single bow on top of the plain box and pulled the cover off.

Even though Ginny knew what would be inside, her eyes widened with everyone else. The Firebolt was truly a beautiful broom, a work of art in Ginny's opinion.

There was a minute of stunned silence, broken by Harry. "Is that —" he started.

"A Firebolt?" Ginny finished. "Yeah. Thought you needed a new broom."

"But — but —" Ron stammered, looking as confused as she'd ever seen him. "That's a Firebolt."

"Didn't I just say that?" Ginny said, having trouble keeping a smile off of her face.

"I think what Ron is trying to say," Hermione clarified, now looking suspicious, "is that you just gave Harry the most expensive broom in the world."

"Only cost one Galleon," Ginny said with a shrug. "Pretty good deal."

"Is this a replica?" Harry asked, looking just as confused as Ron.

"Nope."

"Maybe you better explain then," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

ooo

"I don't know," Hermione said, looking nervous. "It's all very mysterious — and suspicious."

"It's pretty obvious what happened, isn't it?" Ginny said. "Everyone in the school knows Harry needed a new broom, someone heard I was having trouble finding a present —"

"No, it's _not_ obvious," Hermione disagreed, looking a little cross. "Who at school has the money to do this?"

"Malfoy does," Harry said, scratching his head, "but I have trouble imagining this coming from him."

"Maybe it was Dumbledore," Ron suggested. "Or McGonagall. She gave him the Nimbus —"

"Definitely wasn't their handwriting," Ginny said, shaking her head. "It was absolutely horrible. And why would they do this in secret?"

"Dunno," Ron said, looking out of ideas.

"I don't think —" Hermione started, but Ginny interrupted her.

"What's so bad about this?" she questioned. "You're acting like someone sent Harry a bomb instead of a broom."

Hermione looked like she was deciding whether to say something or not, and finally settled with, "No, but what if it's cursed?"

"What, to kill him?" Ginny scoffed. "Maybe if it was a Cleansweep, but I can't see anyone wasting a perfectly good Firebolt on Harry —"

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically.

"— And I took it for a ride before you woke up," Ginny finished. "I needed to make sure it worked…and it didn't throw _me_ off. You're acting like you think Sirius Black sent me that letter, Hermione."

"Well," Hermione said hotly, "I _do_ think that Sirius Black sent you that letter."

Her statement was greeted by silence, broken only by Ron saying, "Are you barking mad? You think Sirius Black could walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and put a down order on a broom?"

"But it fits," Hermione insisted. "I think we should tell Professor McGon —"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Ginny said exasperatedly, taking the Firebolt out of its box and handing it to Harry. "Ride it around the common room, Harry."

"I don't think this is a good idea," Hermione cautioned, but Harry seemed eager to try the broom out; by the time Hermione had finished talking he had mounted the broom and gently kicked off. Being careful not to fly fast or high much, Harry slowly moved around the room, avoiding the furniture. Returning back to his starting position he hopped off and set the broom on the ground.

"It didn't try to kill me," Harry said. "C'mon, Hermione. There's no way Black could have bought this."

Ginny watched Hermione seem to waver for a few seconds, throw up her hands in surrender and snatch up the book Harry had gave her; Ginny thought she heard her mutter something about peer pressure.

ooo

As it turned out Ginny couldn't stand openly supporting the Slytherins three weeks later — not that it would have mattered. The Slytherin Keeper was off his game, letting in ninety points' worth of perfectly blockable goals before the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, found the Snitch hiding behind her own goalpost. The decisive victory put Slytherin officially out of the race (the only good part of the day Ginny could think of) and it made it so that Gryffindor would have to win by enough points to keep their team captain up at night.

And life went on. Classes crawled by, she lent a hand trying to save Buckbeak, a Hogsmeade visit decidedly more pleasant than the last came and went, and the cycle seemed to repeat itself. Quidditch practices were irregularly scheduled because Oliver was only holding them when he was one-hundred percent sure that no one else was watching — the only people who knew about the Firebolt were the team, Ron, and Hermione, and Oliver intended to keep it that way. Even Professor McGonagall did not know about, because in his paranoia Oliver was afraid she might let the secret slip to another teacher.

It was Saturday, April second, and Ginny found herself fleeing the castle to see the dog that she had become so fond of. Yesterday had been crazy: not only had the castle been full of pranks for the first of April, it was also the twins' birthdays. They had seemed to make it their mission to embarrass their 'little sister', and Ginny was wondering if they had an inkling of what she felt for Harry. This feeling stemmed from a seemingly-endless stream of jokes and pranks, one of which involved magically binding Ginny's right leg to Harry's left (it had taken McGonagall to fix that one).

She had thought it would end when the day was done, but at breakfast an owl with a package had arrived for Harry. Sensing something amiss Ginny had asked to take a look at the package before Harry did. She was glad that he let her because it was stuffed full of things that Ginny had no idea how the two had gotten their hands on — the drawings she had made of her getting married to Harry when she was about seven years old, very embarrassing letters that she had wrote to Harry but never had the courage to mail when he was in his first year, and the front cover of Ginny's current copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, with the 'Ginny loves Harry' that she had written in everlasting ink the previous year on the inside cover.

After standing up and walking quickly away from the table without explanation Ginny had grabbed her book bag, dumped the contents of the package inside, and left for Blackie.

"I think Fred and George suspect something," was the first thing that she said to the dog. "Hi," Ginny added belatedly after sitting down; the dog shuffled over, tail wagging.

"Look at this," Ginny went on, displaying the contents of the twins' latest prank. "How do you think they got their hands on that stuff? It's supposed to be in my room, under my bed where no one can find it. And this is the cover from the textbook that I'm _using_ right now. It looks like they ripped this right off my book…yeah, they did," Ginny confirmed, pulling her mutilated copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ out of her bag and drawing her wand. "_Reparo_. Honestly, did they sneak into my room at night or something?"

Ginny slammed the book down onto the ground in frustration and lay down on the soft grass; the dog lay down next to her.

"It's really starting to get to me," Ginny said in annoyance. "I feel like I did when I first had my crush on Harry. I want to talk to him about it…and I think he might like me too. That one night, where we almost stepped under the Mistletoe? I wish I had let us. I thought I saw something in his eyes when I looked at him, but nothing since then. Maybe he doesn't I guess."

The dog coughed loudly, and Ginny sat up (so did the dog). "You act like you can hear what I'm saying sometimes," Ginny said, "don't you?"

The dog woofed in agreement.

Ginny smiled. It really did seem like Blackie could understand what she said, and sometimes she wondered if the dog had been charmed by someone for extra intelligence or something like that.

Suddenly Ginny was struck by an idea. Animals didn't seem to show up on the Marauder's Map, but was it possible this smart dog could? Ginny had never looked for the dog on the map, and was now curious. She had used the map last trip to Hogsmeade, and still had it in her bag. Pulling it out and activating it, she searched for the spot where she was. Sure enough, there was a dot labeled Ginny Weasley, and —

Ginny froze in surprise, her eyes widening. There was indeed another name right next to her, but it didn't say Blackie.

According to the Map, Ginny was sitting right next to Sirius Black.

ooo

_A/N: I think I changed the date of the feast a bit from where it was in the books, so that's not a mistake if anyone noticed that. There was a _lot_ of Ginny's POV in this chapter, something that should be settling down soon. _


	17. The Four Demands of Sirius Black

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait. School kind of took over, but now I'm back. _

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Seventeen: The Four Demands of Sirius Black**

Ginny spun around, wand in hand, expecting to be cursed — but when she finished her movement there was no Sirius Black, just the dog. Still keeping her wand raised Ginny glanced back down at the map to see if the dot representing Black was still there. It was.

Frowning, Ginny compared the location of Sirius Black's dot to where Blackie was sitting: in relation to Ginny they seemed to be in the exact same place. Black couldn't be Blackie, though. How could he be a dog? The only way was if he was an Animagus, like Hermione the ones Hermione had done an assignment on.. But that just didn't make sense.

But as she kept on guard for some kind of attack, Ginny realized that parts of it _did_ make sense. If the dog was a person then that be would how it was so smart. She had been talking about the Firebolt with Blackie; if Sirius Black was the dog, then maybe he was the one who sent the broom, just like Hermione had thought….although Ginny couldn't think of a reason for Black to send Harry a broom.

And as it started to make sense, a bleak truth emerged that made Ginny's insides boil with anger. Of course her canine companion had been so attentive. He had been listening for any information that could help him get Harry. She had confided in him and he had used her, just like Riddle. She had been played again.

"Change," Ginny ordered shakily, pointing her wand at the dog. "I know that's you, Black."

There was a long few seconds where the dog just sat there, and then it emitted a great sigh. It stood up, and right before Ginny's eyes transformed into convicted mass-murderer Sirius Black. His clothes were ragged and his face gaunt, and although he was thin he didn't look as skeletal as the wanted posters portrayed him; this was a product of Ginny bringing him food, she figured.

"Hello," he croaked in a voice that sounded as if it had not been used in a long time. "How'd you figure it out?"

Ginny tried to bring her shaking wand hand under control, and studied Black. He didn't have a wand in his hand, and wasn't tensing to make a grab for hers.

"Your name on the map," she said finally.

Black laughed, which dissolved into a coughing fit. Putting a hand to his throat, he looked back up at Ginny and chuckled. "The Marauder's Map," he said wistfully. "Should have known that would come back to bite me in the arse one of these days."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, curious in spite of herself.

"I'm Padfoot, Ginny," Black said. "I helped write it."

"Don't call me that," Ginny said automatically, not trusting his statement.

Black raised an eyebrow. "What should I call you? From what you've said 'Ginevra' sounds too much like that bastard Voldemort, 'Miss Weasley' sounds like a teacher…"

As he trailed off, Ginny noticed something. "You're trying to trick me," she decided. "Saying you wrote the map, insulting your master."

Black shook his head sadly. "You are a very smart witch," he said, "And I must admit that I'm a little disappointed that you still believe that ridiculous story that's going around."

"I scratched you behind the ears," Ginny said, the fact that Blackie equaled Sirius Black finally settling in her mind.

Black grinned. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's the one spot I can't get when I'm a dog. James always said I should stay in that form, but those damn fleas made it miserable — you made it better, though," he finished.

A surge of anger ran through Ginny at the mention if Harry's father. "You don't have the right to speak his name," she said, keeping her wand pointed at his head.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Black said quietly. "I hoped that by now you'd —"

"You're denying you killed Lily and James Potter?" Ginny interrupted angrily.

A pained look crossed Black's face, and for a moment he looked as old as Dumbledore. "No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't deny it. But there's more to the story, and you know it. You knew it the moment you heard that ridiculous fabrication that just doesn't quite sit right in your mind."

Ginny returned Black's gaze, not talking for a moment. "I should kill you," she said. "Harry wants to."

"Then you're aiming a bit high, Ginny," Black said with an unusual tenderness in his voice. "You want to aim for the chest, not the head. You don't know the Killing Curse, but you don't need to for this; I'm weak and tired — less weak than if it weren't for you, thank you very much for all that food — but anything to the heart should do that. A Stunning spell, that Petrifying spell, most anything. Go on, do it," he encouraged when Ginny just stood there, her wand quivering.

At one point Ginny tried to move her wand, tried to say the incantation, but her arm wouldn't move and the words wouldn't come out. Finally she dropped her arm to her side in frustration, lowering her wand.

"Find out the real story," Black stated quietly. "Get Harry, Re — _Professor_ Lupin and your brother's rat, and meet me at our old hiding place tonight — and it has to be tonight, because we get a full moon the next night. Lupin will know where to go."

"Full moon?"

"Another thing that I thought you would have figured out by now," Black said. "But that's beside the point. Will you do what I ask?"

"No," Ginny said after a second's thought. "I'm taking you to the Dementors."

Black shook his head sadly, and in an instant a wand was in his hand and Ginny's wand was thrown out of hers; Black caught it in his free hand.

"Picked up this wand from a wizard who left it lying around on a windowsill," Black said casually. "Most careless of him. I'm sorry to use force on you, Ginny, but I won't let you stop this. Do what I say and you'll get your wand back by the end of the night."

Black turned around and started to walk off. Ginny briefly thought about pursuing, but then decided against it: he had two wands, and she had none. Scooping up her bag she turned her back on him and began to run up to the castle as quickly as she could, all thoughts of her brothers' prank forgotten.

ooo

When Ginny arrived at Lupin's classroom and threw the door open she was expecting to see only the shabbily-dressed teacher, which is why it came as a shock to her when she saw Harry in there, wand out.

"Ginny," Lupin said pleasantly. "We were wondering if you were going to come or not."

"What?" Ginny said, confused.

"Dementor lessons?" Harry supplied.

"Right," Ginny said; as flustered as she had been after Fred and George's prank she had forgotten about their lessons. "Sorry. But there's something you need to know."

Ginny quickly launched into the tale of her meeting, backtracking a little to explain the map and her relationship with Blackie — Black — to Lupin. Harry was in a stunned silence after she finished, and Ginny thought that Lupin was too until he spoke.

"You saw Peter Pettigrew on the Marauder's Map?" Lupin checked.

"Yeah," Ginny affirmed. "At the time I thought the map might be mistaken —"

"No," Lupin said, cutting her off. "The map never lies."

"How'd you know?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Moon," Harry said suddenly, and both pairs of eyes shifted to him. "Black said something about you and the moon…Black helped make the map…you were friends with him…you know about it…"

"You're Moony?" Ginny said incredulously, finishing Harry's thought.

"A deduction worthy of Hermione," Lupin praised, "although she may have figured out some things that you haven't yet."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"He said to bring Ron's rat?" Lupin asked, ignoring Harry's question. "Are you absolutely positive he said 'rat'?"

"I am," Ginny said.

Something shifted behind Lupin's eyes.

"I need to go tonight," Lupin announced. "And I will require that rat. Ginny, if you could —"

"Are we going with you?" Harry asked suddenly.

"No," Lupin denied immediately; from the speed of his response it seemed likely he had been expecting that question. "It's too dangerous."

"Who're you bringing with you for backup?" Ginny asked. When Lupin didn't reply she nodded, knowing that she was correct. "That's what I thought. You're going alone."

"None of the other teachers are suitable," Lupin said mysteriously. "Anyone I can trust outside of this building would take at least a full day to contact."

"Why can't you wait a day?" Ginny said at the same time as Harry stated, "I'm going with you."

"I can't allow it," Lupin said sternly to Harry, ignoring Ginny again. "I have —"

"I've got as much a personal stake in this as you do," Harry said fiercely.

"I've got one too," Ginny said immediately. "He pretended to be a friend for months, and he's got my wand."

"Ron loves that rat, so he'll want to come," Harry mused. "And there's no way Hermione will sit back while —"

"No!" Lupin shouted, temporarily losing his cool. Harry fell silent, and Lupin looked just as surprised as he was about the outburst. "It's too dangerous," Lupin said finally. "It would be irresponsible of me, considering my duties as a teacher, to take you up against an armed convicted mass murderer."

Lupin shot a glance at Ginny when he mentioned the part about Black being armed, and Ginny felt herself coloring at how easily he had disarmed her.

"Yeah, well, we'd still have the advantage," Ginny insisted. "He wasn't lying about being weak; he's only got my wand now because I was distracted, off my game. And I've got the map, so we're going even if you don't take us."

Ginny looked fairly at Lupin, who sighed. "Gather Hermione, your brother, and his rat," Lupin said wearily, "and bring them to this room. Cage the rat."

ooo

"This is mental," Ron said after Lupin finished recapping the previous discussion. "Why don't we just send the Dementors in? You don't really think Black's innocent, do you?"

Lupin tapped a foot on the floor, and then turned to Ginny. "Let me see the map. Don't worry, I'll give it back," he added when Ginny looked apprehensive. Finally she handed it over to the Professor, who tapped it with has wand and started to look at it.

"Hang on, you need to say the words to activate it," Harry said suspiciously.

"_You _do," Lupin countered, scanning the parchment. Harry watched Lupin's gaze come to rest on one spot and then darken.

"I might think that," he answered Ron at last. "And I _do_ now think that you should come with me, Harry. Your friends…"

"We're coming," Ron said stoutly, both surprising and pleasing Harry. Ron had seemed doubtful, but it seemed when push came to shove he was willing to support his friends.

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Definitely," Ginny affirmed.

Lupin gave a weary grin and waved his wand over the rat cage: the bars shimmered, and a translucent film coated the rectangular block of metal wiring.

"What was that for?" Ron asked, almost dropping the cage.

"To keep it from breaking under extreme pressure and letting the rat escape," Lupin said.

Hermione let out a small gasp, and all eyes turned to her. "Extreme pressure?" she said, seeming to be experiencing the same burst of inspiration Harry had encountered when he had figured out that Lupin was Moony. "And Black's an Ani — and you were friends with him and — are you saying —"

"You are a very bright witch, Hermione," Lupin complemented. "But I think we should see the evening out before jumping to any hasty conclusions. You four, meet me back here at precisely six o'clock. We'll depart then."

ooo

Harry was back at Lupin's office the instant the hour turned to six, with his friends in tow. They were as ready as they could be, although Ginny of course lacked a wand; Harry had offered multiple times the use of his, which she had denied. Lupin was dressed in a thick travelling coat, and had his wand out.

"All ready?" he asked.

"Um, Professor?" Hermione said timidly. "I was looking at the calendar, and I was wondering if doing this tonight was the best idea —"

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but to his surprise Lupin laughed. "The night before is fine."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, and did not utter a word as they marched to the main doors of the castle.

"How did you figure out it?" Lupin asked once they had crossed exited the castle, keeping his wand up in case of Dementors. "The date when I was sick? My Boggart?"

"Both," Hermione answered, and again Harry had no idea what was going on. "And your name."

Lupin laughed just as loudly as he had before. "Pure coincidence, I assure you," he said. "My father's name was Lupin too, but unlike me he was no werewolf."

Harry stopped walking in surprise, and noticed that Ron had done the same. Ginny, however, was still walking with the Professor and was the first to notice that they had stopped.

"Harry, Ron, c'mon," she said.

"You're — you're a werewolf?" Ron stammered.

"As Hermione worked out quite a while ago, yes," Lupin replied with extraordinary calm. "And I would hazard a guess that you figured it out recently, didn't you, Ginny?"

"Just when you asked Hermione how she figured it out," Ginny admitted.

"Very good," Lupin complemented.

Harry was rooted to the spot. Lupin? A werewolf?

"He's still Professor Lupin," Ginny said to Harry and Ron. "Does something else he has in him change what he is?"

Ginny's wording made Harry wonder if this had a very personal angle for her, but he had to admit that she had a point. Lupin was the best teacher he had ever had, and had never shown any violent inclinations whatsoever in all the time he had been teaching them.

"You two can go back to the castle if you don't feel comfortable," Lupin said. "I understand, believe me. But I need that rat."

Reminding himself that this was indeed Lupin and not just some monster Harry took a few steps forward until he was standing with Lupin, Hermione, and Ginny again. A moment later Ron joined them, although out of acceptance or a desire not to be standing alone Harry could not tell.

"Why did you tell us?" Harry asked as they resumed walking.

"Hermione and Ginny had figured it out," Lupin replied, "and I had a gut feeling that you would find out by the end of the night; I preferred that it come from me than from another source."

"Your secret's safe with us," Ginny assured him.

Lupin chuckled. "Safe from students, perhaps, but I fear Hermione has been putting too much effort into keeping the lid on things. The staff know."

"They do?" Harry said in surprise.

"It's very hard to find a job as a werewolf," Lupin said. "Dumbledore was and is an extraordinary Headmaster; not many schools would hire me. In fact, not many would have taken me as a student…and here is the proof that he did."

They had arrived at the Whomping Willow, the tree that had destroyed Harry's Nimbus.

"The Willow?" Harry said.

"Yes. It was planted to deter people from accessing this tunnel."

"Tunnel?" Harry repeated again.

"Yes," Lupin said, waving his wand; a branch flew off the ground and hit a knob on the tree, seemingly stunning it.

"What was that for?" Ron asked.

"We're going to the Shrieking Shack," Lupin answered. "That's where he'll be."

ooo

The passage through the tunnel was very uncomfortable. Harry kept banging his head on the top, and whenever he stopped to navigate something there was a high chance that Ginny would bump into him. Harry was impressed with Lupin's navigation: the Professor was making good time, and actually seemed at points to be waiting for them to catch up.

Just as Harry had finally managed to keep up with Lupin the Professor stopped suddenly and Harry ran into him; Ginny ran into Harry, and from the noises farther back it sounded like that trend was shared by Ron and Hermione.

"We're here," Lupin said, and Harry suddenly noticed that they were under a trap door. "I will go up first. You four stay down here, and if I don't tell you to come up within two minutes get out of here as fast as you can and get Professor Dumbledore. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry whispered back.

"Good," Lupin said, and pushed the trap door open; he climbed out of the tunnel and closed it behind him. Harry couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear just fine.

"Black," Lupin said shortly.

"Is that anyway to greet an old friend, Remus?" someone else said, and in a flash Harry realized it was Black. The urge to throw open the trapdoor and to curse Black was overwhelming, and it was only when he felt Ginny's gently restraining hand on his shoulder that he realized he had actually started to do that.

"Whether we're friends or not depends on if you can make me believe you," Lupin said coldly. "Show me your proof. Tell me how you knew."

There was rustling of paper. "Look at the picture," Black said. "Look at the paw."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "My God," Lupin breathed. "His finger. How did you get this?"

"Fudge gave it to me when he toured Azkaban," Black replied. "I'm very glad he did. Have you seen him on the map, Remus?"

"Yes," Lupin said, "I have. But I must admit I don't fully understand this. Youwerethe Secret Keeper, after all."

There was silence.

"Unless…" Lupin said, sounding (just like Harry had) like Hermione when she was on the verge of a revelation, "You _were_ the Keeper…and you changed without telling me, because you thought that —"

"You were the spy?" Black finished. "I should have trusted you more, Remus. I should have known that it couldn't have been you."

There were some noises that Harry couldn't make out, and then Lupin said, "You four can come up now."

Harry hurriedly scrambled up, wand at the ready. The room was a mess, chairs and other furniture torn to pieces. Black stood in the center along with Lupin, looking at the new arrivals. Harry felt a burning hatred, and despite what Lupin had said he wanted to make Black pay; only Ginny's hand still on his shoulder kept him from drawing his wand.

"Now that we're all here," Lupin said, looking around, "why don't you explain, Sirius? Here's your wand, Ginny," he added, tossing her wand back.

"Glad to," Black said. "You see, I've been tracking that rat ever since I broke out of Azkaban."

"The rat?" Harry said, momentarily distracted from his thoughts of killing Black. "I thought you were going after me."

"Oh, it was a pleasure to see my godson whenever possible," Black admitted, "but that's not why I broke out of Azkaban. You see, when I was imprisoned Fudge came to visit, and he gave me his newspaper. This was on the cover."

Black reached into a pocket and pulled out a faded yellow article that had been cut out from the _Daily Prophet_. The title was, '_Weasley Girl to Stand Full Trial for Killing of Teacher'_. Under the writing was a family picture of the Weasleys, with their owl Errol and the rat Scabbers tucked into the picture.

"Dad told me about that," Ginny remarked softly. "He had that picture on his desk at the Ministry, but someone nicked it and put it in the paper."

"Look at the rat," Lupin said. "More specifically loot at its front paw."

Harry peered at the picture, and his eyes narrowed. "Scabbers is missing a toe," he said suspiciously. "Are you trying to say that Ron's rat is Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes," Black said. "Now give me that rat."

Perhaps Lupin noticed the hungry look in Black's eyes as well as the four students, for he hurriedly said, "Give me the rat, Ron. If it truly is a rat, no harm will come to it. I promise."

"You're all mental," Ron said weakly, but did not protest when Lupin took the cage from him. "He's an old rat; he probably lost that toe in a fight."

"How old?" Lupin said, grabbing the rat by the base of the tail and lifting it out of its cage. "Common rats don't usually live past three years."

Ron fell silent, and Harry watched as Lupin held the rat up so that it was between the Professor and Black. Harry still wasn't convinced that Black was innocent, although Lupin seemed to think so.

"On three," Lupin said to Black. "One, two, _three_."

They both waved their wands, and with a _bang_ the rat started to transform, growing larger and larger until it transformed into a man that still looked very much like the animal he had been a few seconds ago.

"It's been a while, Peter," Lupin said conversationally, acting as if animals transforming into dead school friends was a daily occurrence. "I assume you've heard everything?"

"I — I — I —" Pettigrew stammered; Harry stared at the balding man incredulously. If he was alive, then was Black telling the truth?

"It's almost like a reunion," Black said, his tone dangerous. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and — but we're missing someone, aren't we, Wormtail? Why're we missing someone?"

"He tried to kill me, Remus," Pettigrew gasped. "You don't — you don't believe him?"

"I think I do," Lupin said coldly. "I must admit, I have trouble coming up with very many scenarios as to why you would spend the past decade or so as a rat."

"Because I knew _he_ would try and kill me again!" Pettigrew said, sweat pouring off his face. "He already tried to do it once."

"You thought I'd break out of Azkaban to come kill you?" Black said with a laugh. "Peter, when you put me there you knew I'd go insane and die. You _really_ know how to thank your friends."

Black's wand was inches from Pettigrew's forehead, and the small man was quivering pathetically.

"How'd you break out of Azkaban?" Ginny asked suddenly, diverting Black's attention from the sniveling Pettigrew.

"I'm not quite sure," Black said slowly. "I don't remember all of it. All I remember is turning into a dog, slipping past the blind Dementors and swimming a long, long way to shore. I walked for days. Weeks. Sometimes as a dog, sometimes as a human. Finally I was able to steal a wand, and then I could Apparate — but not directly to Hogwarts. So I went to your house, Harry. Finally saw you during the summer as you took the Knight Bus…I'm afraid I gave you quite the fright. Sorry about that. It took the remainder of the summer to get to King's Cross station inconspicuously, and I jumped the train as a dog."

Harry's mind was spinning. It was now quite obvious that Black hadn't killed Pettigrew, and also that Lupin believed that Black was innocent. But there was still a big problem with his story.

"What about his parents?" Ginny pressed, voicing Harry's thoughts. "I asked you if you killed them, and you said yes."

Black was silent for a moment. "I as good as killed them," he said in a haunted voice. "I was their Secret Keeper, as you know. We thought there was a spy within our ranks, and I was foolish enough to think the spy for Voldemort was Remus Lupin."

"You weren't the only foolish one," Lupin said quietly. "I thought it was you, remember?"

"We were afraid he would betray me to the Death Eaters," Black went on, acting as though he hadn't heard Lupin. "So we switched Secret Keepers to someone the Death Eaters would _never _suspect. Dumbledore offered to be the one, you know. But I was so proud of my plan. Little Peter was so pathetic that _nobody_ would have dreamed that we gave the most important secret to him. It must have been the proudest moment of your life, telling him you were the Keeper," Black finished with a snarl, glancing back down and Pettigrew.

"It's true, Harry," Lupin said. "We knew there was a spy, and I thought it was Sirius. I was wrong."

Harry looked down at the man on the floor. "You're saying you didn't kill all those Muggles?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Peter was much cleverer than I ever gave him credit for," Black admitted. "He hid his wand behind his back, yelled the right words so that survivors could tell the Ministry enough to send me to Azkaban, and then blew up the street. I have to say, I didn't think he had it in him, cutting off his own finger."

Pettigrew was mumbling something that sounded like "I didn't," and his eyes were furiously scanning the exits, looking for a way out. Making up his mind, Harry nodded his head.

"I believe you," he said, the words sounding odd coming out of his mouth. "I believe you."

Black — Sirius, Harry corrected himself — broke into a grin. "Good," he said. "Now we can kill him."

Sirius motioned with his wand and Pettigrew flew to his feet and backwards, slamming into a wall. Sirius aimed his wand at the traitor's heart, a look of grim determination on his face. Harry looked to Lupin, expecting the Professor to stop him, but to his surprise Lupin had his wand aimed at Pettigrew as well.

"Do you have anything you'd like to say, Peter?" Lupin said in an almost conversational tone.

"I — what was I supposed to do?" Pettigrew stammered. "He was taking over everywhere. He would have killed me if I had resisted. What —"

"You should have stayed true to your friends!" Sirius shouted angrily, his wand jerking violently; Pettigrew's head slammed back into the wall, and he emitted a cry of pain. "We would have _died_ for you," Sirius went on. "You were supposed to do the same."

"Goodbye, Peter," Lupin said solemnly, raising his wand slightly.

Harry looked around the room. Pettigrew was magically pinned up against the wall, sniveling pathetically. Sirius and Lupin had their wands pointed at him, in the process of uttering some spell that would kill their former friend. Hermione was looking away, and Ron had a look of disgust on his face, seeming unable to tear his eyes away. Harry then caught Ginny's eye, and her intentions were easily readable to Harry. She seemed poised to stop the killing, but Harry sensed that she would not interfere if Harry didn't. It was up to him.

He wasn't quite what made him step between the accomplice to the murder of his parents and the two older wizards, causing them to raise their wands. Maybe it was some nagging form of conscience, or the fact that Ginny didn't seem to want it to happen, or that he didn't want Sirius to have to kill his old friend, or perhaps a mix of all of those.

"Don't do it," Harry said over Pettigrew's streams of thanks. "Let's just get him out of here."

"Harry, this man is the reason why your parents are dead," Lupin said emotion audible in his voice.

"Thank you, kind —"

"I know," Harry said, jerking his leg away from Pettigrew, who had attempted to take hold of it. "But your name can't be cleared without him, Bla — Sirius. After that the Dementors can have him. They've been wanting to give someone a Kiss, haven't they?"

ooo

Sirius had bound Pettigrew and the whole group was headed out of the Shrieking Shack. Initially refusing to budge, Pettigrew had proved slightly more willing to remove when Ginny kicked his ankle, hard. As they passed out from under the immobile Whomping Willow, Ginny supposed it probably wasn't right for her to be kicking Pettigrew so much —it was making him stumble. Lupin was guarding their prisoner and Harry was walking a few paces away with Sirius. Ginny could only hear snippets of their conversation, but it sounded like Harry was being offered a home, something which in Ginny's opinion he completely deserved. Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder and walked back over to Pettigrew, occasionally poking him in the back with his wand.

Ginny was so lost in thought about Harry and the life he could have with Sirius that the events of the next few seconds flew past so fast she hardly had time to react. One moment they were carrying a bound Pettigrew up to the castle, and the next a chill permeated the air as hundreds of Dementors closed upon them, having somehow found their prey at last. After being free of the horrid creatures for months meeting them again proved to be too much for Sirius, who gasped and fell to his knees; the robes binding Pettigrew vanished, and the small wizard grabbed Sirius' wand. Before anyone could react he had shot a Stunning spell at Lupin, who collapsed to the ground. Suddenly turning into a rat, he darted away from them.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Ginny yelled, aiming her wand at the fleeing rat: Pettigrew stopped, frozen.

"Ron, Hermione, get the rat!" Harry yelled, apparently having seen Ginny petrify him. "Ginny!"

"Right!" Ginny yelled back, taking a quick glance at Sirius and Lupin: the two adults were currently in no position to assist them. Aiming her wand at the Dementors, she tried to think of something happy.

"_Expecto Patronum_!" she heard Harry yell, and a wonderful silver stag erupted from his wand, bounding at the Dementors. Ginny aimed her wand at them, thinking of the happiest thoughts she had. After the Christmas feast where she had almost kissed him, playing Quidditch with him, getting her wand…

But before she could try to conjure her Patronus the effect of the Dementors got to her, and Tom Riddle filled her thoughts. And just like last time she had faced a real Dementor she found blackness creeping in around her vision, and when she finally surrendered to it, it was with the knowledge that she had failed to protect her friends.

ooo

Ginny woke up in a hospital bed, not quite remembering how she got there. There were curtains drawn around the bed, so she couldn't see anyone — but she could hear them.

"— and on that subject, you will be removing them right now?" someone who sounded a great deal like Dumbledore said. "If it had not been for the training that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had received outside of class —"

"Of course, of course," another person replied, and Ginny was pretty sure it was Fudge. "I never dreamed that they'd attack innocent students. They were only there to hunt down Black. Speaking of Black…"

"He is being held until the authenticity of his story has been examined," Dumbledore answered. "Do you wish to talk to those involved now?"

"Yes, yes," Fudge said distractedly.

There was the noise of footsteps, and Dumbledore pulled open the white curtain that shielded Ginny's little cot from the rest of the infirmary. "Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah," Ginny replied automatically, standing up. She was burning up with curiosity about what had happened, but was suppressing it with great difficulty. She walked over to Fudge, and saw that Dumbledore had fetched Harry was well.

"Where's everyone else?" Ginny said in a moment of worry; Ron, Hermione, Lupin and Black — Sirius — were all missing.

"They are fine," Dumbledore said gently, sensing her distress. "The Minister here would like to hear your versions of the story, if you will; Professor Lupin and Sirius Black have told their tale already."

Ginny let Harry do most of the retelling, and he stopped right at the point where Pettigrew had gotten loose and looked at Ginny.

"There were a lot of Dementors," Ginny said, "and I managed to petrify Pettigrew before I, well, yeah. But it doesn't matter, does it?" she said sadly. "He escaped. The spell would have worn off when I —"

"Yes it did," Dumbledore agreed, "but by that time Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger had already grabbed Peter Pettigrew. Their actions were quite heroic: according to them he transformed back into a human, and injured both of them before Miss Granger Stunned him…quite advanced magic for her age…but I am deviating from the subject, I fear. Harry, if you wouldn't mind saying what happened after Miss Weasley was knocked out."

Ginny felt a rush of gratitude towards the Headmaster for not announcing that she had fainted, and she almost missed Harry's first words. "My Patronus chased away the Dementors," he said, "and after they went away Sirius got up. He revived Professor Lupin, bound Pettigrew again, and did something to help Ron and Hermione. Then he had me run up to the castle to get you, and I guess you know the rest."

"That I do," Dumbledore said, and he turned to face Fudge. "Cornelius, I have heard the exact same sequence of events related to me by four students, a Professor at this school, Sirius Black, and with some coaxing Pettigrew himself: I am inclined to believe them."

Fudge looked at Dumbledore as if he had sprouted a second head. "Surely you can't be serious," he said. "You testified yourself that he was the Potter's Secret Keeper."

"And that was true — to the extent of my knowledge at that time," Dumbledore agreed. "Now, however, it is apparent to me that a grave mistake was made by sending Sirius Black to Azkaban."

Fudge looked from Dumbledore to Harry to Ginny, and she could tell that he was thinking this through. "Alright," he said softly. "Bring him down here."

ooo

Harry thought that Sirius looked like new man now. A shower, a shave, a fresh set of clothes and the knowledge that he was going to be recognized as an innocent man seemed to take ten years off of him. He patted Harry on the back as he walked over to the group, and turned to face the Minister.

"Good to see you again, Minister," Sirius said pleasantly, a smile on his face. "I'm afraid our last encounter was in a rather unpleasant environment."

"Yes it was," Fudge agreed. "Azkaban isn't a very pleasant place."

"Yeah, well, try living there for twelve years," Sirius said causally, causing Fudge to blanch.

"Well —" Fudge stammered. "I —"

"Oh, it's fine," Sirius said jovially, and Fudge relaxed. "After all, it wasn't your administration that sent me off to Azkaban without a trial…although Crouch _is_ still working for the Ministry, is he not? And you _were_ a Ministry official at the time, weren't you?"

Fudge paled again. "It wasn't my decision," he said.

"But you stood by it," Sirius said coldly, any trace of his friendly tone gone. "Now Fudge, I have three very simple demands for you — and two requests for you, Dumbledore — and I think it would be in your best interest for them to be granted."

"Or what?" Fudge said, showing a little backbone.

"When you gave me that newspaper I noticed a particularly nasty article by Rita Skeeter — nice to know she's still reporting," Sirius said with a grim smile. "If you _don't_ do what I say I'll give her an exclusive that will get you out of office faster than you can spin that hat of yours."

Fudge looked up at his bowler's hat, and then back at Sirius. "Say them," he said weakly.

"I want an article pronouncing my innocence on the cover of anything, be it the Daily Prophet or local Muggle newspaper, which reported my guilt to be run for three months straight. That way I don't get cursed by groups of wizards who still think that I'm a murderer. On second thought, don't tell anyone in Little Whinging," he added thoughtfully.

"Of course," Fudge said instantly. "We would have done something to that effect anyway."

"Nice to know," Sirius said sarcastically. "Next I want a house. Built specifically to my specifications and erected in one day. Something by the sea."

Fudge nodded.

"Good," Sirius said. "And clear the Hippogriff Buckbeak."

"Lucius won't be happy," Fudge muttered almost to himself, "but if with that we have deal…"

"Ah, Lucius," Sirius said. "He brings me to my last demand."

Fudge froze. "Last demand?" he questioned, counting the numbers on his fingers. "You said three."

"Did I?" Sirius said innocently. "How forgetful of me. I meant four. In any case, Lucius Malfoy is to be sentenced to four months in Azkaban — no, make it five. Five months in Azkaban."

"Impossible," Fudge said resolutely. "An innocent man cannot be thrown into prison on the whim of a —"

"Lucius Malfoy is as far from innocent as possible," Sirius snarled, losing any composure he had held during his 'conversation' with Fudge. "_Besides_ being a Death Eater that went free he gave a little girl a Dark object that has so far subjected her to horrors you can't imagine. I don't particularly care if you understand or like what I'm saying; Malfoy deserves a Kiss, not time in prison. And I _will_ go public if you don't do this."

Fudge looked on the verge of keeling over. "My good man," he said weakly. "What you're asking is not possible."

Harry looked at Ginny, and saw appreciation written on her face. As the 'dog' she had confided in Sirius would know about Riddle, and apparently he felt quite strongly on the subject.

"What is this?" a cold voice said, stopping Sirius mid-retort and causing all eyes to sweep to the doors. Severus Snape had just marched in, black cloak flowing behind him and wand in hand.

"Another school reunion," Sirius said, stepping away from the Minister and turning so that he fully faced Snape. "Remus, Peter, and now you, Snape. All the old _friends_. How's your arm?"

Harry noticed that Snape's grip had tightened around his wand so that his hand was turning white. "Why is he standing here?" Snape said to Dumbledore, not taking his eyes off of Sirius.

"Because he is innocent," Dumbledore said simply. "Peter Pettigrew is alive, and is the one responsible."

Snape seemed to not hear Dumbledore, and kept looking at Sirius with a loathing beyond what he reserved for Harry; it was quite frightening.

"You knew I was innocent, though," Sirius said, not going for his wand. "You of all people would have had access to the knowledge of whether I was a Death Eater or not, and if Peter was one. What," he added, seeing the looks on Harry and Ginny's faces, "they don't know?"

Snape's wand was suddenly in Sirius' face. "You may have fooled _them_, Black," he snarled, "but I know the truth."

"As do I," Sirius said calmly, staring at Snape.

"Severus," Dumbledore said sharply, causing Snape to spare a glance in the Headmaster's direction.

"You really believe his story?" Snape said angrily. "You haven't forgotten that Black is capable of murder, have you?"

"I remember quite clearly what _both_ of you are capable of," Dumbledore replied piercingly, and Snape took a step back, looking as though Dumbledore had hit him.

"What were the other things you wanted, Sirius?" Harry asked, hoping to break the tension; it only worked partially. Snape's trance seemed to vanish, and when it left the Potions Master seemed to be deciding whether to direct his wrath on Harry or his godfather.

"If you would leave the room, Severus," Dumbledore said more gently than before, but there was no mistaking the command. Whirling on one heel Snape stalked out of the room, and as he vanished Harry had a feeling that this was far from over.

"I can't believe you hired him as a teacher," Sirius said to Dumbledore.

"He hired me," Lupin said, and Harry turned around to see Lupin walking wearily in. "Forgive me for not being here earlier, but it's already starting to take its toll."

From the way Fudge eyed Lupin warily Harry was pretty sure that the Minister was in on Lupin's secret.

"It's different," Sirius insisted.

"Not all that much," Lupin disagreed, smiling slightly. "But I believe you were about to say something?"

"That I was," Sirius said, nodding his head. "I would request, Headmaster, that you let me stay here at Hogwarts for the duration of the year — it would give me some time to be with my godson."

Dumbledore nodded, and Sirius continued. "Lastly, I would like to have custody of Harry transferred over to me — assuming he is still amiable to that idea."

"Yes," Harry said quickly, getting exited. It was really going to happen.

"I am afraid that is not possible," Dumbledore said.

"I think it is," Sirius said confidently. "James would have wanted it, as would Lily — do you know what his Muggle relatives are like to him? I heard some second-hand tales from Ginny when I was masquerading as a dog."

"It's not that," Dumbledore said.

"Ah," Sirius said, tilting his head to the side. "So it's not what his parents would have wanted. I think that will go over with dear Rita well when I give her a detailed account of over a decade in that prison. If you don't agree then I talk to her. You do, Malfoy only has to spend three months in Azkaban."

"For Merlin's sake, Dumbledore, do it," Fudge hissed imploringly; Harry supposed that the Minister had already given in to Sirius.

"Rita has always had plenty to say about me," Dumbledore said calmly, "and threats involving her do not bother me in the slightest. Harry's house has blood protection."

Harry wasn't sure what Dumbledore was talking about, but Sirius nodded at this, looking both interested and somewhat disappointed. "I see," said. "And this is a safeguard against his return?"

"Yes."

Sirius sighed, looking weary. "Would a week or two there every summer do it?"

"I believe two weeks would be satisfactory," Dumbledore agreed. "Harry, when this year is over please visit your aunt and uncle for two weeks — and then you may do what you wish with Sirius. Is that acceptable?"

"Yeah," Harry said, slightly disappointed at the thought of going back to the Dursleys at all.

"Don't worry," Sirius said, winking at Harry. "I have a surprise that'll make those two weeks go by just fine."

ooo

The next hour or so was spent with everyone who had been on the night's adventure (minus Pettigrew) and Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione had been cleared by Madam Pomfrey to get out of bed and visit with everyone else — Pettigrew had broken Hermione's collarbone and cut a gash in Ron's leg, both of which been fixed up by the matron. Fudge had slipped out of the room some time ago.

"I can't thank you three enough," Sirius said to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. "Ginny, if you hadn't petrified him — and if you hadn't grabbed him, Ron and Hermione. That took nerve, especially when he was fighting back."

All three students simultaneously blushed, and Sirius shot a grin at Harry. "You didn't do anything," he joked.

"Hey, I got rid of those Dementors," Harry protested. "And I saw what my Patronus was."

"A Stag," Sirius said proudly. "Just like Prongs, your father."

"Unacceptable!" someone yelled, and everyone in the room turned to see McGonagall marching into the infirmary, almost chasing Fudge into it.

"My dear woman," the Minister said forcefully. "You are blaming me for something that —"

"You were supposed to tell them!" McGonagall said fiercely, and they made it into the wing.

"Minerva, I am surprised at you," Dumbledore reprimanded. "You should know better than to shout when all the students are sleeping."

"Oh, we have larger problems than students waking up," McGonagall said fiercely, and Fudge backed a step away from her. "Why don't you tell them?"

It was obviously a command, not a request, and Fudge cleared his throat. "Well," he started, "the Aurors who were supposed to escort Pettigrew away may have not been fully informed —"

"You said that _you_ would tell them he was an Animagus," McGonagall accused. "You said that _you_ would handle it."

"Obviously there was some kind of miscommunication," Fudge spit out. "Whatever the case, he escaped."

Fudge's words caused a sort of shocked silence, broken by Sirius. "You mean to say that you 'forgot' to tell them that he could turn into a rat, and then he did just that and slipped away?"

"Well, that — that is one way of putting it," Fudge said. The Minister looked from Sirius to Dumbledore and then addressed that latter. "Dumbledore, would you mind restraining Black?"

"Restraining him?" Dumbledore asked lightly as multiple hands twitched towards their wands. "Whatever for?"

"He hasn't been formally cleared yet," Fudge explained, "and since the unfortunate escape of Pettigrew —"

"You son of a _bitch_," Sirius interrupted vehemently. "You let him escape, didn't you? Why? So Malfoy wouldn't go to Azkaban for a few months? So you wouldn't get bad publicity?"

"Everyone in this room knows that Sirius Black is an innocent man," Dumbledore added, "including you, Cornelius. You have done a great deal of harm tonight, and I urge you not to make it worse."

Fudge looked on the verge of retorting, and then whirled around and stalked off, much as Snape had done. Dumbledore nodded slightly at Sirius before leaving to follow Fudge, and in that moment Harry knew it was going to be all right.

"I think," Lupin said, looking at his watch, "that it is well past the time for us all to get to bed. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, if you wouldn't mind going to your dormitories. Sirius, you can bunk in my office tonight."

Harry gave Sirius one last look, and then walked out of the infirmary with his friends. He stopped to listen when he had cleared the door, and heard Sirius said, "— and if I _was_ feeling sick, I suppose you'd offer me some chocolate."

"I wouldn't waste any on you," Lupin replied, and as Harry started to walk off he realized what kind of effect this must have had on Lupin.

"I'm so happy for you," someone said, and Harry turned around to find Ginny; she had apparently stopped when he had stopped to listen in, while Ron and Hermione continued on.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I still can't believe it. And really, Ginny, if you hadn't immobilized him until Ron and Hermione could get there —"

"I failed," Ginny said softly, and Harry looked down at her quizzically. "I couldn't do the Patronus. I thought of him and I fainted."

"You just need more practice," Harry said bracingly. "I was only able to do it because I was thinking of Sirius. Otherwise I think I would have passed out too."

Ginny smiled. "Thanks," she said. "Thanks for — thanks for everything."

She gave Harry a light hug and he returned it, having to bend down slightly to accommodate her height. After she let go Harry was about level with her, and without thinking he made to kiss her on the forehead. Ginny had been starting to move away, however, and instead of him placing a friendly kiss on her head they brushed lips, something decidedly less brotherly than what Harry's original intention had been — or would have been if he had intended to do it, which he hadn't. Ginny froze, and when Harry realized what he had done he did too, his mind working frantically to puzzle out what had just happened.

"Um," Harry said uncomfortably, noticing that Ginny had turned as bright shade of red as he was surely displaying. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Right," Ginny said in an odd voice. "Didn't mean to."

Harry looked at her eyes and tried to figure out what she meant, but at that moment she pulled away and walked back to the common room faster than he felt like moving.

Back in the dormitories, as Harry undressed for bed he thought about what he had said. It was true: he hadn't _meant_ to almost kiss her. But he had wanted to.

"What'd you want t' do?" Ron asked sleepily, and with a jolt Harry realized that he had been thinking out loud — and Ginny's brother was only a few feet away, in the process of falling asleep.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Go to sleep."

"Mnkal," Ron mumbled, and within a few seconds of Harry's close call Ron's snores echoed throughout the room.

Lying down and pulling the sheets over his body, Harry smiled. With Sirius free he might have a chance to be a normal kid. No problems, no people or things to save…just normal.

ooo

_A/N: If the scene with McGonagall and Fudge sounded slightly like a rip-off of the end of the fourth book…that's because it partially was. _


	18. White Knight in Shining Armor

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: A combination of me being busy and repeatedly putting off writing the end of the chapter caused this delay. I finally decided just to get it posted instead of having it lie around on my computer for another month or two, but I think there may be more errors in this chapter than usual; please let me know if you spot them._

_Responses to two anonymous reviews at end of chapter._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Eighteen: White Knight in Shining Armor**

ooo

"Potter."

Harry had been having a pretty bad day, and when he heard Draco Malfoy speak his name behind him he dearly wished that he was under his Invisibility cloak. It had been three weeks since Sirius had been cleared, and while it was great to see him around some things were taking a turn for the worse — most notably Snape's attitude.

From what Harry could determine there had been some kind of fierce rivalry between Snape and Sirius when they were at Hogwarts, and Snape was more than disappointed to have Sirius' soul still residing in his body. Deprived of that pleasure the Potions Master was directing his wrath at the easiest target: Harry. After his latest Potions class, Harry was in a particularly foul mood. In the past Snape rarely went to the point of actively sabotaging Harry's work, but after he had thrown a pinch of powder into Harry's cauldron that made it belch its contents onto the brewer — Harry — there was little doubt that he was doing just that now. Covered in green slime that burned slightly and refused to wipe off, Harrydid _not_ want to talk to Draco.

"What?" Harry asked irritably, turning around with his hand near the pocket where his wand resided — and seeing Draco's wand an inch or two from his face.

"Take your hand away from your pocket," Draco ordered. Harry glanced around for anyone in the sparsely populated hallway that might intervene, but all he saw was a bunch of frightened first-years.

"Okay," Harry said, slowly moving his hand away; he could not draw his wand faster than Draco could utter a spell. "What d'you want?"

"What do I want?" Draco repeated, his face flushed with anger.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Harry said, starting to get frustrated.

Instead of answering, Draco rummaged around with his free hand and withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, and thrust it at Harry. Harry cautiously took it, and glanced away from Draco's wand to look at what seemed to be the headlines from the _Daily Prophet_, cut out of the paper.

_'Lucius Malfoy Goes to Azkaban'_, Harry read. '_Charges Not Specified. Minister Fudge Says He Will Stay There For Months.'_

"I forgot about that," Harry said, handing the paper back to a furious Draco. Harry had assumed that Fudge wasn't going to carry out Sirius' fourth demand, but apparently he had caved in.

"You're behind this," Draco snarled. "You're sending an innocent man to Azkaban for three months."

"Innocent?" Harry repeated, not bothering to correct Draco on who had sent Lucius to prison. "How about when he slipped Ginny the diary? Ever think about what happened because of that?"

"I'm sure she got what she deserved —" Draco started, but Harry didn't give him a chance to finish.

The very small rational part of Harry's mind was telling him that Draco didn't know what he was talking about, and was just talking out of anger about his father going to prison. That was the rational part. The other part thought about what Lucius Malfoy had done, what had happened to Ginny, and what Draco had unknowingly said. Ignoring the fact that Draco had a wand Harry launched himself at the Slytherin, taking his opponent by surprise. Draco landed on his back with Harry on top of him, and the next few seconds happened without any conscious input or complete memory for Harry. He was hitting any part of Draco he could reach, mostly his face. He didn't know how long that went on, but then something hit him in the stomach as Draco managed to cast some sort of spell despite the fact that his wand arm was trapped under Harry's body.

McGonagall could have arrived a few seconds later or a few minutes later — Harry really wasn't sure. His head was spinning from whatever spell Draco had cast, and his opponent was lying against the opposite wall, not seeming in much better condition. The trip up to Dumbledore's office was a complete blur, and only when some kind of glass was forced into his hand and he managed to take a sip of it did the world come back into focus. He was sitting in a chair in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore and McGonagall present; both were standing up.

"What'd he hit me with?" Harry groaned, rubbing his head.

"I do believe Mr. Malfoy used a relatively obscure variant of the Confundus Charm," Dumbledore answered. "It was not properly executed; if it was you would be in the hospital wing along with Mr. Malfoy."

"Hospital wing?" Harry repeated. "I didn't hit him that hard, did I?"

"You broke his nose," Dumbledore responded, and his hand twitched slightly towards his own face. "It is an injury that is quite easy to set right, but not very pleasant."

Harry looked at Dumbledore's crooked nose, and wondered if he had once had his nose broken — and if so, why he hadn't magically made it normal again.

"The matter of whether it was easy to set right or not is irrelevant," McGonagall said from next to Dumbledore, displaying more anger than Dumbledore — although that wasn't saying much, because Harry had yet to detect any sign of anger from the Headmaster. "You attacked a fellow student."

"He started it," Harry argued, knowing how childish that sounded it. "He had me at wand-point."

"I know," McGonagall said coolly. "I was informed by a rather frantic student that Malfoy was doing exactly that, and I set off to help you. Imagine my surprise when I rounded the corner and saw you attacking him. He managed to repel you before I could intervene."

"I had a good reason," Harry said, watching as McGonagall's eyebrows rose higher and higher. "I did. He was — he was saying that — he was insulting Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

Harry had originally planned to say exactly why he had hit Draco, but he then realized that would mean explaining Ginny's former predicament to the two Professors which was not something he was willing to do without her permission.

"He insulted Miss Weasley," McGonagall repeated. "Potter, Draco Malfoy has a habit of insulting nearly everyone he meets. After three years you should have learned to deal with it."

Harry met McGonagall's critical gaze, not breaking eye contact. He knew that his excuse wasn't a valid one, but he wasn't about to reveal details about Ginny's personal life just so he could dodge punishment.

"Was there something else he said?" Dumbledore asked gently, and Harry had a distinct feeling that the Headmaster knew there was more to it than Harry was saying.

"No," Harry said after a moment's thought. "There wasn't."

As harsh as the punishment could be for Harry he just couldn't betray Ginny's secret. Tom Riddle had taken in her secrets and used them for his own purposes, and there was no way Harry would betray her like that.

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore, and it seemed almost as if they were communicating telepathically, although it seemed more likely to Harry that they had known each other long enough to not need to talk as much.

"Very well," McGonagall said after a slight paused in a clipped tone. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and two weeks' detention with Professor Snape. It would greater if you had been the initiator in this, Potter, but seeing as Draco Malfoy 'started it' you are getting off easy."

'Easy' was a relative term, Harry thought dryly as McGonagall jerked her head for Harry to leave the room. It would be two absolutely foul weeks with Snape.

ooo

Harry staggered back to the common room late that night, his stomach feeling quite upset. Harry had a feeling that forcing a student to sample new batches of potions to test if they worked properly or not wasn't allowed, but that didn't stop Snape. Some of the potions had unpleasant side effects and Harry was pretty sure that his hair was orange at the moment.

When Harry arrived he saw that the common room was completely deserted, save for one person: Sirius. It was a bit of surprise to see Sirius in the common room; Harry had seen him in various places around the school over the last few weeks, and they had talked, but he had never come up to Gryffindor tower to the best of Harry's knowledge.

"Sirius," Harry greeted. "What're you doing here?"

"Just wanted to talk," Sirius answered, sitting in a chair right next to the fire. "Love what you did with your hair. Will you have a seat?"

Harry obliged and sat down across from his godfather. He looked like a completely different man than he had when Harry had first seen him in person, and not in a bad way.

"So," Sirius started, "There's a few things we need to talk about. First, as your appointed parental figure, I need to mention your fight with Draco Malfoy today."

Harry groaned. "This is why it's good to have the adults stay at home," he complained. "I don't need another lecture, _especially_ with Snape handing out my detentions."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Who said anything about a lecture?" he said as if it had been the farthest thing from his mind. "I was going to tell you to always disarm someone if you're going to get into a fistfight with them. If you're going to put your wand aside, make sure he doesn't have his. You know the spell, but if you don't have time to take out your wand you have plenty of options: grab the wand out of their hand and snap it in two, kick them in the crotch — they'll let go of it then, believe me — and all kind of other things. Think for a second before you start a fight," he finished with a grin.

Harry blinked. He had been expecting another speech about how he shouldn't have gotten into the fight, but instead it seemed that Sirius was giving him tips. "Why'd my parents make it so you would be in charge of raising me?" Harry asked. "It seems like Professor Lupin would be a bit more responsible."

Sirius' grin temporarily faltered, and Harry realized that he had hit upon a painful spot. "I think that was the idea," Sirius said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "James could always be a bit foolish, but your mother worried about you so much, Harry. Remus was supposed to have some role in bringing you up…but we just had such a hard time imagining your mum and dad dying that nothing really got finalized. Then we thought the wrong person was the traitor, your parents were killed, I went to Azkaban, and the whole plan was shot to hell."

"I'm glad you're out," Harry said quietly. "I'll have a real home."

"Yeah," Sirius said, looking up from the floor. "I've been working on that. I got the Ministry to build it, and I've been getting it ready to live in every since — that's why I've only been at Hogwarts a hours out of a few days out of a week. It'll be ready this summer…and I've talked to the Weasleys and the Grangers. How'd you feel about Ron, Hermione and Ginny coming over sometime later in the summer?"

"That would be brilliant," Harry said honestly. "We might have a better summer than last one."

"Good," Sirius said, standing up. "Now, I'll let you go to bed after we talk about one last thing: Ginny."

"What about her?" Harry asked curiously.

"You and Ginny," Sirius elaborated without making any more sense to Harry.

"I don't follow," Harry admitted.

Sirius sighed. "Do you fancy her?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, his immediate denial starting to come out of his mouth even as he wondered if it could be true. "Of course not. She's my best friend."

"So?" Sirius countered. "That doesn't matter. Remember how she talked to me when I was a dog?"

"I don't want to hear her secrets," Harry started, but Sirius paid no heed.

"She told me that she fancies you," Sirius said, cutting off any reply that Harry might have had. "And I mean as of a couple of weeks ago, not that little thing she had her first year. Think about it," he finished, clapping Harry on the shoulder and walking out of the tower.

Harry did think about it, both on the trip up to his bed and while he was lying down, waiting to fall asleep. He wasn't one-hundred percent sure that he could trust Sirius about Ginny fancying him — it seemed unlikely — but the question of whether he felt that way was a good one. He knew that he had wanted to kiss her once…did that mean anything? Did the fact that she was his best friend really not matter?

ooo

May 14th. Ginny had literally been counting down the days until the last Quidditch match, going so far as to cross them off on a calendar. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and not quite an even matchup; if they were interested in taking home the cup they would have to be at least sixty points up on Ravenclaw before Harry caught the Snitch, something that Oliver had been relentlessly repeating throughout practice. Ginny had never seen Harry fly like he was now. Perhaps it was a combination of the Firebolt and having Sirius turn out not to be a murderer, but he was flying almost perfectly. Ginny, on the other hand, noted quite a few things she could do to improve her own performance, although when she discussed them with Harry he waved them off.

"You think you should hold the Quaffle to the left side of your body instead of the right when you're carrying it?" he had repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Ginny, you'll be fine. You're great at this."

What Ginny could of course not divulge to Harry was what she suspected her reason for wanting to be perfect in the game was. If she helped win the game, maybe she would impress Harry…their near-kiss had left her confused and even more unsure than before about how he felt towards her.

…Maybe if they won the game she could ask him about it.

With her head chocked full of such thoughts Ginny marched onto the field along with the rest of the team, greeted by a rather beautiful day. Ginny scanned the opposing team with her eyes, and they came to rest on the Seeker, Cho Chang. Chang was admittedly a very good-looking girl, and Ginny knew that a fair amount of the male population of Hogwarts fancied her. A quick glance to the left showed that she had caught Harry's eye too, and he kept looking for a few seconds longer than he did at the other Ravenclaw players. Scowling, Ginny kicked off as soon as the game was started and began circling, waiting for another Chaser to pass her the ball.

It wasn't the surprising that he'd fancy someone like Cho Chang over Ginny Weasley, she thought angrily, catching a ball thrown by Angelina and rocketing in the direction of the goal hoops. Ginny knew that she was a relatively plain-looking girl, and would never catch Harry's attention the way Chang did. Still mad, Ginny ducked under an incoming Bludger and threw the Quaffle right past the Keeper, scoring ten points for Gryffindor.

The game seemed to whirl past Ginny, Bludgers narrowly missing her broom. She would score a goal, they would score, Oliver would block, they would block, and on it went, a never-ending battle to keep their score up. Ginny scored one more goal, and suddenly Lee Jordan was announcing that the score was ninety to thirty in favor of Gryffindor. Ginny had to swerve to the side as Harry rocketed down from the sky without warning, Chang trailing hopelessly behind his Firebolt without the ability to catch up. Ginny kept her focus on denying the Quaffle to the Ravenclaws instead of watching Harry — if they scored before Harry grabbed it then Ravenclaw would win the Cup — and so she only heard the roar of victory from the Gryffindor side of the pitch, and Lee whooping into the magical megaphone.

They had won.

ooo

The party in the common room was a grand one, mostly organized by Fred and George. There was a huge amount of food that must have come from the kitchens, and in a secluded corner what Ginny very much suspected was Firewhisky. For her part Ginny was lying rather unhappily on a couch, resisting the urge to drift off.

"How's the champion?" someone asked, interrupting her brooding, and Ginny blinked her eyes open to see Harry standing in front of the couch, holding some kind of pastry.

"You'd be the one who'd know," Ginny replied, making room for Harry to sit down. "You did great."

"I was talking about you, Ginny," Harry said, taking a seat next to her. "You were brilliant. Food?"

He offered the pastry to Ginny, who took it but didn't eat it right away. "You won the game," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I didn't do much."

"No," Harry disagreed. "For me it was just the broom. Cho couldn't keep up with the Firebolt. But you did great — without all those goals it wouldn't have mattered if I had caught the Snitch or not."

Ginny inwardly bristled at Harry calling the opposing Seeker by her first name, and then mentally berated herself for having such a reaction. What right did she have to get angry about that? Right after the match ended Ginny had made a mental promise to herself to ask Harry if he felt the same way about her — but she was too much of a coward, and she had spent pretty much the whole party on this couch, frustrated with herself about her lack of courage. To avoid responding to Harry, Ginny took pastry and started to eat it, not really paying much attention to the delicious taste.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, and Ginny just wished he would leave.

"Fine," she lied. "I'm tired; I think I need to go to bed."

Ginny quickly stood up and walked off before Harry could respond, heading up to bed. It wasn't all that late in the night, but Ginny didn't have trouble falling asleep anymore. Opening her trunk she retrieved the latest vial of potion that Snape had given her, which was still almost full. Taking out a small glass cup that she had also been given Ginny measured out a portion and set it on her bed; she quickly changed out of the clothes she had been wearing and into her nightclothes. As usual Ginny made sure that there was nothing she needed to do before taking the potion; once she took a sip she only had half a minute at the most. After satisfying herself that there was nothing left to do she downed the potion in one gulp, grimaced at the taste, and rested her head on the pillow.

But when Ginny opened her eyes it wasn't morning like it should have been. She also wasn't lying in her bed with Riddle a few feet away, like she had feared greatly the first few times she had taken the potion…but she _was_ in her room, and so was Riddle.

It was one of the most surreal moments of Ginny's life. A thick fog filled the room, and the air was so dense that she was moving slower than if she had been trying to swim through molasses. Riddle was on the opposite side, moving towards her at just as ridiculously slow a pace as Ginny could manage, mouth opening and closing as he said something that was lost in the fog between them.

Heart pounding, Ginny turned around in slow motion, trying to find a way out —

— And she was awake, back at Hogwarts and drenched in sweat. Staring at the top of her bed Ginny lay there, breathing heavily and trying to figure out what had just happened. She knew that she had measured out at least the right amount of potion…maybe it wasn't working that night? She honestly didn't know, and didn't care to experience Riddle again. Ripping the curtains open Ginny went back into her trunk and poured herself more of the potion, about twice what she had been usually taking. Drinking the liquid quickly she put the glass back in the trunk, stepped back in bed, and lay down. Ginny nervously closed her eyes, and was pleased when she was greeted by blackness.

ooo

Voices. Lots and lots of voices that Ginny wasn't accustomed to hearing early in the morning greeted her ears, and lifted a weary hand to run her closed eyes, wondering what was going on.

"I do believe she is awake," Dumbledore said, and Ginny's eyes flew open.

Ginny wasn't in Gryffindor Tower. She was in the hospital wing, and the voices that she had heard seemed to be Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Snape.

"What's goin' on?" Ginny said sleepily. "Why'm I down here?"

"You gave us quite a fright," Dumbledore said mildly. "You nearly killed yourself with that potion."

"The potion that should _not_ have been given to her," Madam Pomfrey said testily, glaring at an unabashed Snape.

"What's done is done," Dumbledore said firmly, briefly directing his attention on the bickering between staff before returning it to Ginny. "Now, Miss Weasley, if you would be kind enough to tell us what happened to you?"

"Well…" Ginny started, both uncomfortable about the subject and still processing that she was in the hospital wing. "I've been taking the potion for a while, and it wasn't working last night. So I took some more, and, well, I guess it worked too well."

Dumbledore's gaze flickered to Snape, and although no words were exchanged it looked to Ginny like they were somehow communicating.

"Thank you for being forthcoming," Dumbledore said to Ginny. "It looks like Professor Snape might have a question or two for you. I must be going, however; if you wouldn't mind accompanying me to the door, Poppy?"

Pomfrey nodded and started to follow Dumbledore away from Ginny's bed. When she was about ten feet away she stopped suddenly, turned around and pointed a finger at Ginny. "Stay in that bed for now," she ordered, and then turned away to follow Dumbledore.

"Great," Ginny said sarcastically, looking at Snape. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Lunch ended two hours ago," Snape answered.

Ginny's eyes widened. "I guess that really did knock me out," she said in surprise.

Snape was quiet for a moment before speaking. "How much did you take?" he asked slowly.

"Almost double the dose," Ginny admitted guiltily. "Maybe a little more than that."

Snape stood up suddenly, facing away from Ginny. "Double the dose," he repeated angrily.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, surprised at his strong reaction. "The regular dose wasn't seeming to do it, so I tried twice."

"My problem isn't that you _took_ too much," Snape. "It is that twice the dose merely knocked you out."

"What?" Ginny said confusedly.

"I gave you this potion against my better judgment," Snape said, "because it can cause addiction."

"I'm not addicted," Ginny protested.

"Not yet," Snape agreed, "but the problems have already started. As you take it regularly your body grows to tolerate it, and you need more and more of it to work. The dose you took would have killed a normal person, but you were able to withstand it — not well though, as we can see."

"So I'll take a little less than twice," Ginny said. "I still don't see the big problem."

"I had hoped you would have said that you had taken only a small fraction more," Snape said, not answering her question right away, "because that would give you time. The tolerance you can build to this potion can only go so high; soon it will reach the point where for it to work you will need to take fatal quantities, and by that time you _will_ have developed an addiction. Witches and wizards in the past have killed themselves because they couldn't stay away from the potion even when it was too dangerous for them to take more. This is why I never should have given it to you in the first place — and why you are not going to be allowed any more from this moment forward."

Ginny looked at Snape disbelievingly. "You're joking," she said warily.

"Of course not," Snape replied, not looking at Ginny.

"Do you have any idea of what he's going to do?" Ginny said, fear and panic starting to rise up in her chest, the fear that had been brought back by seeing Riddle the night before filling her. "I told him — I _promised _him — that I'd do what he said…and then I took a potion with the goal of never seeing him again. D'you know what he'll do?"

"Yes," Snape said shortly, not meeting Ginny's eyes. "I do."

"But it won't happen to you, so it's fine," Ginny said angrily. "You _knew_ this day would come —"

"I thought you would have more time," Snape retorted.

" — And you _still_ gave me that potion without telling me," Ginny finished fiercely. "I would have taken my chances _without_ it if I knew that I'd have to stop taking it."

Snape recoiled, and while he was forming words Ginny swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

"You're not supposed to be out of your bed —" Snape started, but Ginny cut him off.

"So put me in detention, _Professor_," she said sarcastically, and stalked out of the hospital wing.

ooo

Snape didn't move for a good five minutes, and then he slowly made his way back down to his office. A wave of his wand ensured that the doors were locked and no one but a skilled wizard or witch could get in. Down the spiraling staircase he went, arriving at his office/bedroom. He sat down on the small bed and took out a vial of the potion Ginny had been taking from his stores. He stared at the vial for a few seconds, and then threw it across the room with great force; it hit the opposite wall and shattered, causing the contents to splatter the nearby shelves and floor.

"You didn't need to do that."

"On the contrary," Snape said, looking sideways and seeing a translucent Lily Evans hovering near the door. "It helped with my frustration a great deal."

As Snape waved his wand, causing the vial to repair itself and the potion to return to the vial, Lily floated over to him. She did not look like Lily Potter when she had died; the image floating in front of Snape was no more than seventeen years old.

"She needs help," Lily said.

Snape stopped midway through magically sending the potion back to its shelf: the result was it falling to the floor and breaking again.

"_Really_?" Snape said sarcastically. "I knew that. Of course since _you_ said it, of course I knew that."

She sighed. "Here we go again," she said in an exasperated tone. "Just get it over with, Sev."

"Fine," Snape said, glaring at her. "You're not a ghost. You have neither the right image nor the correct level of hostility to me to be real — you're Lily Evans, not Potter. We both know that Lily Potter, the real Lily, wouldn't stay back as a ghost. You're a figment of my imagination and I don't know why I'm even talking to you."

"You say that a lot," Lily said, crossing her arms. "Every few months you decide that because I'm your subconscious — and your sense of conscience, it seems — that you won't talk to me. And then a few days later you can't stand it, and you start again talking to me again. It's because you can't stop thinking of me as Lily whenever you imagine me, even though we both know I'm not…and the chance to talk with her still isn't something you can pass up."

Snape felt as though he had a horrible headache. "If you're going to hang around to pester me, maybe you can do both of us a favor and tell me what to _do_!"

The last word was shouted, all of Snape's anger and frustration compressed into a single word.

"You can't handle this alone," Lily shot back. "According to your logic, since I know that you know it."

Snape had no response for that, and she pushed on. "You knew it wouldn't last."

"Yes," Snape said angrily, "and I don't want to think about what is going to happen to her."

The figure that Snape called a figment of his imagination smiled sadly, but there was some pride mixed in with the sorrow. "You're not Severus Snape," she stated, drawing Snape's attention.

"I would have to disagree," Snape said irritably. "I am Severus Snape."

"No, you're not," Lily said, shaking her head. "Not most of the time, anyway. You're a bitter, cynical, uncaring and resentful Professor at a school who just happens to have the last name 'Snape'. You died the night you found out I died, remember?"

Snape's right hand unconsciously went to his throat as the memories came back, the burning pain that had spread from his throat to his stomach to his whole body…

"Yes," Snape said finally. "I remember."

"But you saw something in Ginny Weasley," Lily went on. "You sensed something. Maybe not that diary, but that she was special. And you can help her, because you are alive when you're around her. When else are you at a loss for words? What other Gryffindor do you care about _more than your Slytherins_?"

Snape closed his eyes. By his own previously stated logic, if she was a manifestation of his subconscious then he knew everything she was saying to be true.

Life getting just a little bit too complicated, Snape sighed and looked at his watch. It was old and battered, and probably too small, but it was his coming of age gift from his mother and besides a few things in his house it was the only thing of hers he had left.

"It's late," he said finally. "I need food and some sleep. I'll think about it, and if she shows any more signs of trouble I may contact Dumbledore. Happy?"

Lily gave weary smile and vanished, but Snape knew that he'd imagine her again soon, probably tomorrow. After getting food from the kitchen he brought it down to his office and ate in silence. After a few hours had passed and most of the castle had its lights turned out he lay down on his bed, but after half an hour gave it up and left his room, performing one of his constant night patrols of the school. Sleep would not come to him this night.

ooo

"So you can't take it anymore?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny nodded and lay down on what seemed to be her favorite couch in the common room, closing her eyes.

"Yeah," she said. "That git Snape won't give me any more."

"That's the first time you've insulted Snape," Harry observed. "I thought you two were on good terms."

"We were," Ginny agreed. "He has a bad reputation towards Gryffindors, but he helped me out…until today, that is."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, thinking hard. "If you wanted to sleep down here I'd stay down here too," he offered. "I could wake you up if you started to act funny, or maybe wake you up every hour or so."

Ginny smiled at Harry. "Thanks," she said softly. "That means a lot. But it doesn't work that way; I think he could fit a day in my head into a few seconds of real life. I'm on my own here."

Harry sighed. "I feel like I can't help you," he said miserably. "I can't go into your head and try to stop him, can't wake you up to stop him…"

Harry trailed off, as frustrated as he had been in as long as he could remember.

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "You are helping."

"How?" Harry asked.

"By being here for me," Ginny replied simply, getting up from the couch and sitting down next to Harry in his mammoth armchair. "Can you go in my head and stop him? No. But you want to, and I know I can count on you for — for anything, really."

Ginny rested her head on Harry's left shoulder and sighed. Harry breathed in through his nose and smelled something flowery, a scent that seemed to emanate faintly from her hair. It smelled very nice, and he wondered why he had never noticed it before.

"You two are very cute."

Harry started, and looked up to see Hermione standing in front of them.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked, noticing that for some reason Ginny was blushing.

"You know," Hermione said cryptically.

"We were just talking," Ginny said evenly.

"You might want to stop 'talking' before Ron comes around," Hermione replied, a comment that made little sense to Harry. "Almost everyone's heading up."

"Right," Ginny said, standing up. "Time for bed."

Her last sentence was said unenthusiastically, and Harry stood up too. "Ginny," he said softly enough that only she could hear him, "See you tomorrow. Okay?"

Ginny smiled weakly. "Okay."

ooo

The walk upstairs was quite possibly the longest Ginny had ever experienced. It took quite a while for her to fall asleep, due just as much to her nervousness as to the fact that this was her first night without assisted sleep in months.

As Ginny had expected she woke up in her room in the Burrow. Riddle was in his usual corner, face devoid of emotion.

"Last night was…unusual," he stated.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed, standing up. "It was."

"I am _very_ disappointed," he hissed, making Ginny's blood run cold. "I thought you would do as I said, Ginevra."

"Do you honestly think that I wouldn't jump at the chance to stop this?" Ginny said, sitting up. "That I would want to spend time with you?"

Ginny saw something very odd in Riddle's eyes, something that shouldn't be there. But it was gone in an instant, before she could begin to place it, and was replaced with cold fury.

"That is irrelevant," he said coldly. "You were silly enough to try and run from me, and when it worked believe that it would last forever. But after all, you are _mine_, Ginevra. How quickly you have forgotten the lessons I taught you last year."

"Why do you keep talking about last year?" Ginny asked as Riddle stood up. "This isn't the first time you've talked about a lesson I learned last year."

Riddle stopped mid-step. "I think it is obvious," he said.

"It's not," Ginny said. If something was going to happen, she wanted to at least know why. "I mean, you lied to me in the diary, and knocked me out and tried to drain the life out of me, but I don't see much of a lesson in that."

Riddle tilted his head to the side and stared at Ginny for several moments, and then gave a soft sound that could have been a chuckle. "You don't know," he said, sounding almost slightly amused.

"Don't know what?" Ginny pressed.

Riddle did not answer her question. "Since you do not remember the most important thing I have taught you," he said, "since you have forgotten that you belong to me, I will remind you. Permanently. And I think it shall suffice as your punishment."

Riddle withdrew his wand and aimed it at the bed; Ginny's eyes tracked it. He slowly moved it across the sheets, and a shallow line sliced into the cloth.

"That should do," he said, aiming the wand at Ginny. "This will hurt."

ooo

Ginny's eyes snapped open, and it took a few minutes before her eyes adjusted to the dark. She was able to tell that she was back at Hogwarts and that it was still night.

A small comfort that was to her. Pain radiated from her lower body; she had hoped that it would vanish once Riddle did, but apparently he controlled that as well.

Ginny covered her face with her hands — and froze. Her right hand was wet and sticky. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, Ginny slowly moved her hand away from her face and looked at it.

It was covered in blood. Getting a sinking feeling Ginny looked around her bed and found one of her quills, a particularly sharp one, lying next to her, the tip bloody. Ginny glanced down to where her pyjamas covered her lower abdomen — and saw them tinted red.

"No," she whispered, clawing at her clothes furiously in an attempt to get them off. "No, no, no —"

Ginny's voice died off as she saw ten fresh, raw wounds. They were identical to the ones she had received in her sleep, but Riddle couldn't come out here to inflict them on her…which meant that when she was sleeping he had sufficient power over her to force her to inscribe the words upon herself.

Ginny was suddenly struck by an unexplainable need to get out of her bed. She roughly shoved open the curtains and fell to the ground; managing to stand up she stared at her trunk, which lay no more than four feet away. Changing clothes completely seemed impossible, but just putting on a pair of pants…that seemed doable.

She'd look pretty ridiculous, but Ginny honestly didn't care if the whole school saw her like that at the moment. Not bothering to grab the map Ginny walked down the stairs to the common room and out the door into the castle. She kept on walking, not quite sure where she was going, and when she rounded a corner for some reason she wasn't surprised that she almost walked into Snape.

They both stood there for a few moments, Snape looking as startled as Ginny had ever seen him. Perhaps he had not been expecting to see her, or more likely it was the bloody handprint that she had left on her cheek.

"You're out of bed," he said eventually.

"Yeah," Ginny said softly, not feeling up to a sarcastic response.

Ginny waited for Snape to say or do something, but after a good minute of silence Ginny decided to move on and walked past Snape, still not knowing where she was headed. She half expected Snape to follow her, but when she heard his footsteps they were fading, not growing louder.

Ginny realized where she was headed right before the door to that special girl's bathroom came into view. She hadn't ever ventured back to this bathroom, and didn't know why she was there now.

No, that wasn't true. She did. She had returned precisely because it was the source of her troubles. Ginny went to the sink, that special sink, and quickly rinsed the blood off her hands and face. Sitting against it she closed her eyes and put a hand on her abdomen to unnecessarily help put pressure on her wound — but she could still see the cuts even though her hand covered them and her eyes were closed.

"I'm not yours," Ginny protested softly. Resting her head against the sink she sighed.

Her year had been going so well

ooo

"This feels familiar," Ron remarked, watching everyone but him, Harry, and Hermione leave for breakfast. "Didn't this happen before?"

"Well, if you want to go eat, then go down," Harry said crossly. He had been up all night worrying if Voldemort would do something to her, and it appeared that he had.

"She could be sleeping in," Ron offered.

"No," Harry and Hermione said at the same time; they looked at each other and Harry blinked.

"Maybe you should go check," Harry suggested to Hermione. "See if she's still in there."

Hermione obliged, and a moment later came back down with a worried expression on her face. "She's not there," Hermione reported.

Harry felt a chill settle over him as if a Dementor had glided into the room. He had been hoping that her night had passed free of problems, but it appeared that was no longer a possibility.

"You two go on," he said. "I'll find her. Go on," he added at the look on Hermione's face. When they had left Harry sat down to think.

Ginny wasn't in her room, which was where she had been last time. It was possible she was in one of the girl's bathrooms, but Harry suspected that might bring up bad memories of the Chamber. If only he had bothered to get the map back from Ginny…

Shaking his head to clear these thoughts, he stood up. There was only one way to figure out where she was, and that was going to be by searching.

It took Harry over an hour and a half to find Ginny, and that was because she was in the very last place he expected: Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. After over an hour of fruitless searching Harry decided to check the places that he had decided she wouldn't be in, and it paid off. When he looked into the bathroom he thought he saw a bit of red hair almost out of view. Really hoping that it was Ginny, and that he wasn't about to walk into the girl's bathroom with a different girl in there, Harry cautiously stepped inside for a better look.

It was Ginny. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the sink that led to the Chamber, and staring off into space.

"Ginny?" Harry said, walking over to her. "Are you alright?"

She didn't look at him. "No," she answered softly.

Harry sat down next to her. "Riddle?" he checked.

Ginny gave a short nod.

Harry struggled to find words. He felt powerless to help her — he didn't even know what exactly happened. He was still searching for words when Ginny looked at him, and he saw a look in her face that frightened him. "I'm scared, Harry," she said so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear her. "I'm scared. He can — he can control me when I'm sleeping."

"_What_?" Harry said, torn between horror and fear for Ginny.

"Not like last year," Ginny explained. "Just a little bit. Enough to make me write with a quill. On me."

Ginny bit her lip, and Harry had the feeling that she wasn't talking about writing with ink.

"You don't have to talk about it," he said softly.

"No, I do," Ginny said, shaking her head. "It helps."

Ginny closed her eyes, and Harry took a deep breath. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he could still imagine how horrible it was for her. Scooting over closer to her Harry carefully wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulder. She turned to face him and gently wrapped her arms around him in a gently hug that he returned. Harry could feel her body shake as she let the tears go; how long she had been holding them in, Harry did not know, but they just sat like that for a long time. Finally Ginny pulled back a bit and raised her head with a small sniffle, a couple of tears still on her face even though she was no longer crying. Harry gently brushed them off of her face, and she looked away. When she looked back at Harry he was struck by the exact same feeling that had come over him at the mistletoe, the same feeling right after Sirius had been cleared. The logical part of his brain kept telling him that this was Ginny, his best friend, the 'little sister' of his best mate.

That didn't seem to matter, though, and the only reason he didn't was that Harry sensed that kissing Ginny right then was quite possibly the worst thing he could do.

"Thank you," Ginny said quietly.

"What're friends for?" Harry said distractedly

"No," Ginny said in the same soft voice. "You didn't have to do that. That's not what's expected of you." Ginny gave Harry a small smile and closed her eyes. "You always try to help," she said, her voice dropping in volume so much that it sounded as if she was near falling asleep. "You're my white knight in shining armor, Harry. You're always there for me."

Harry was glad that her eyes were closed, because he was painfully aware of the fact that his face was turning a shade of scarlet that rivaled the Weasleys' famous blushes. "Are you hungry?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "D'you want me to try and find something to eat?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I'm not hungry."

ooo

Ginny managed to persuade Harry to leave and go to his classes a while later, and when she judged it to be lunch time Ginny got up and walked out of the bathroom. She considered it a minor miracle that she did not run into anyone as she headed down the twisted passageways to the dungeons. Every once in a while Ginny caught herself glancing down at her waist.

Ginny hadn't come entirely clean with Harry. The last part of her night had been by far the worst: a permanent reminder of who she belonged to, just as Riddle had planned.

_You are mine._

She shuddered as she remembered Riddle using his wand to carve those words into her skin, into the place which had the most meaning; if he owned that most private place, surely he owned her.

Lost in thought, Ginny only realized that she was finally at Snape's door when it swung open. Snape was standing there, not looking surprised to see her.

"You weren't in class today," he said, his black eyes examining her, no doubt taking in the fact that her attire hadn't changed from their last meeting.

"Guess not," Ginny replied. She hadn't even remembered that she had a Potions class that day.

"Why?"

Ginny ignored his question. "I need something for pain," she asked, not bothering to try and disguise her request. "And something to heal cuts."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he did withdraw his wand and flick it in the general direction behind him: a small vial of golden liquid came flying out and came to rest in his hand, and a purple vial with another flick.

"One dose each," he said, handing them over to Ginny.

Ginny drank both liquids without hesitation — one of them actually tasted good — and noticed the effects within seconds. It was if someone had washed away all her pain, and with it went her exhaustion and part of the general sense of despair that had been hovering over her; she could feel the cuts knitting together, but was quite sure that they would leave scars, not vanish.

"What's in the gold one?" Ginny asked curiously, giving Snape back the empty vials.

"A mix of many potions," Snape answered. "Carefully brewed to keep the properties of each potion that went into it."

"Well…thanks," Ginny said, feeling a little awkward; her last real conversation with Snape had not been much of a pleasant one. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, sir."

ooo

As the Weasley girl — Ginny, she had told Snape to call her — turned around and started to walk away, Snape was acutely aware that he should not be aiming his wand at the back of her head. He had used Legilimency on her in the past, it was true — but one of those times was with her consent, and he had vowed not to do it to her again without asking.

It wouldn't be the first promise that Snape had broken, though, not by far…and he needed to know. He was fairly sure that she was still angry enough to not give up the information. Keeping his wand hand steady, Snape flickered the incantation through his mind. Because of the strong reactions that he had experienced when previously delving into her mind, Snape had prepared himself for this moment. He had erected mental barriers of sorts to keep the flow of information at bay.

They worked, but just barely. Snape saw images of Ginny on a bed, unable to move while a young man that Snape recognized from previous experiences to be the Dark Lord stood over her, his eyes cold. He had removed her clothes, and was tracing his wand up and down, magically cutting letters into her skin only mere inches away from her genitals; while she was undergoing this in her mind, he used all that remained of his power to control her hand into carving the same words into her actually flesh.

"_You are mine._"

The voice floated through Snape's head just as it had through hers, unnerving the Potions Master; in the hallway outside his room he saw the girl stumble and catch herself, no doubt thrown off by the sudden unearthing of her memories.

Once Snape had collected himself he quickly moved out of his room, not bothering to lock or even close the door behind him. The time for waiting was over and Snape made it up to Dumbledore's office faster than he ever had before without running.

"Caramel Toffee," Snape said to the Gargoyle, and when it twisted aside he made his way quickly up the stairs and entered Dumbledore's office without knocking; the Headmaster was sitting at his desk, reading a large scroll of parchment.

"Severus," he said, putting the parchment down and looking at Snape. "To what do I owe this unannounced visit? Please sit down."

Even though Snape preferred to stand he did as he was told, sitting down opposite of Dumbledore. "It's about one of my students," he started. "Ginevra Weasley. I think there is something you need to know about her."

Dumbledore took off his glasses, placed them on the desk, and closed his eyes. Snape had hardly ever seen him like this: Dumbledore looked defeated, his characteristic confidence and cheer nowhere to be found.

"No, Severus," he replied sadly, opening his eyes. "I think there is something_ you_ need to know about her."

ooo

_A/N: Speaking of what I'd consider disturbing content…sorry for those of you who wanted Riddle gone for good. I'm not ready to put him on the shelf (or feed him into an incinerator feet first) quite yet. There was a clue that she'd have to get off the potion somewhere near the end of C.15. I realizing things are getting dark again with Riddle, and rather odd with Snape and Lily, and I'll try to have the next chapter up sooner — no promises, though. _

_ooo_

_To anonymous reviewer Kiiroi Senko: I don't quite understand the significance of your quote in relation to the rest of your post, and I'm sorry that you think Ginny's turned into a Mary Sue. My intentions throughout the story would be to have her be anything _but_ one of those. As for the two weeks, it relates to the part where if he no longer calls the Dursleys' house home the protection will vanish — and he would surely not call it home if he was never set foot in there again, which would be the case if he lived fully at Hogwarts/with Sirius/with the Weasleys. As Sirius guessed (and Dumbledore confirmed) last chapter it is a safeguard against Voldemort's return. The point is more to keep the protection intact than to have Harry protected during the upcoming summer. _

_To anonymous reviewer me myself and eye: I agree completely with you when you say that an "M" rating can mean a lot of things. And yes, the chapter one warning is vague for the pure reason that I didn't'/don't want to give away (or hint too much) about events 10+ chapters later. I do believe that the note at the end of fifteen gave the reader a better idea of what general kind of thing could be expected…and it was given as a chance to let people "jump ship" if the implied content at that point was not something they were willing to read (which people did). If I didn't have the warning closer to the events built in I would certainly go into a little more detail, but for the moment I would like to try not to spoil things as much as possible. And no offense taken at all._


	19. A Chimera, Unicorns and Ginny's Mistake

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: JYaM is back! I've got a couple things I'd like to say; they don't pertain too much to the storyline, so this can be skipped without missing anything._

_First, there were two reasons for the very long delay. The first was simply that I needed a very long break from this story if I wanted to be able to keep writing it. I don't anticipate needing to do that again. The second was the length. Although this is the longest chapter, it was going to be a lot longer until I realized that it would end up just being too long. I split the chapter, but I was far enough along that Chapter 20 is pretty close to being finished. That should be up before too long._

_Second has to do with a few liberties I either took (or think I took) in the chapter. I moved the date of at least one event around, so inconsistencies with canon may not be a mistake. _

_Third and last has to do with an anonymous review that I received during the wait. Understand, I'm not saying don't flame. If you feel the need to write one, go ahead (although obviously I prefer that if a strongly negative review is to be left that some constructive critic be included). What I do have problems with are reviews that are crude, inappropriate or contain offensive language directed at anyone, whether it be me or against another reviewer's post. In the past I deleted one review immediately because it was just something so inappropriate that I did not want to have it on my story's review page. This one I have left up partially as an example. I will not leave future ones up._

_This is an "M" rated story. I expect that if you are mature enough to read a story with that rating that you will be mature in your reviewing. I would hate to disable the anonymous review ability, because I believe that you should be able to write a review regardless of whether you have an account here or not (or if you don't want to sign in for the review). Nevertheless, if this becomes a serious issue I will disable it. _

_Well, that's it. (In my opinion) some aspects of this chapter are a bit more lighthearted than some previous chapters, so…enjoy._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

ooo

**Chapter Nineteen: A Chimera, Unicorns and Ginny's Mistake**

ooo

When one is excited about an event, the time preceding it seems to crawl along at a snail's pace. Conversely, the day flashed past faster than Ginny would have thought possible, and night soon came about again. Slipping past most everyone she went to bed early, just wanting to get the night out of the way. But sleep would not come easily; her thoughts were filled with the previous night's events, the scenes playing over and over in her mind.

Adjusting the sheets, her thoughts finally turned to one promise to herself.

_I hate him. I'll never do what he wants._

Riddle wanted something from her — what, she had no idea, but it was obvious to her that Riddle had a plan. No matter what he did she still wouldn't do what he wanted.

_I hate him. I'll never do what he wants._ _I hate him. I hate him._ _I hate him. _

"That notwithstanding, you _will_ do what I want," Riddle said. Ginny had fallen asleep without even noticing and now was back in what used to be her private place — before Riddle took it over. He was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room, as far away from Ginny as he could get without leaving the room.

Ginny said nothing. Although the first decade of her life was pretty much carefree, the previous year had not been — but none of it compared to the previous night, to the sheer terror as she lay immobile on the bed, the excruciating pain, the fear that it would never end.

"Don't be so shy," Riddle said after Ginny said silent. "You brought it upon yourself, my dear."

"You can go to hell," Ginny said bitterly, not looking at Riddle.

Ginny neither heard Riddle stand up nor cross the room, but she offered no resistance when he cupped her chin in one of his cold hands and tilted her head so that she was looking at him — and now that she was looking at him she couldn't stop, couldn't tear her gaze away from the depth of his grey eyes.

"You are letting your base emotions affect your judgment," he said softly. "Last night was making sure you would not forget again, not stray from the path. I saw great potential in you, Ginevra. Do not make me doubt it."

Ginny wanted to look away from him, to close her eyes at the very least, but she couldn't. It was insane that his praise, saying that she had potential, it mattered to her. It was because she had experienced the other extreme of Riddle, what he called punishment. It was like stepping out of a cold house into a frigid winter; upon coming back inside the house would seem warm by comparison. It was that made his praise all the more meaningful. The carrot and the stick, sugar mixed with poison.

"So what now?" Ginny said finally.

Riddle was silent. "Answer this truthfully," he said after a pause. "Do you really hate me?"

Ginny nodded. "More than I can find words for."

Riddle turned away, and just as Ginny started to wonder if she had said the wrong thing he spoke. "Have you been wondering why I am doing all of this?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted.

"It goes back to the story of the girl from Old Jormire," Riddle said, turning around and fixing his eyes on her face. "Would you like to know?"

"Why would you tell me?"

"Because it is time," Riddle answered cryptically. "As for the story…as I said last time, the little girl was rescued by Grindelwald and he took care of her. But _this_ is the point of the story, Ginevra Weasley: he did not do this out of the kindness of his heart. The Dark Wizard feared defeat possible at the hands of Dumbledore and wanted a failsafe, and Grindelwald has sensed great power in the girl. She would be his successor if Grindelwald lost the duel."

Riddle stopped talking but instead of any answers Ginny was left with even more questions that before. "I don't get it," she said finally. "I don't understand."

"Think about it," he said.

Ginny mulled over this clue for a few minutes before a strange, almost impossible thought worked its way into her head. "Am I the little girl in the story?" she asked cautiously.

"I will admit I admire your body," Riddle said. "However, I do not enjoy being trapped in it. I am Lord Voldemort, and have plans for what to do with the Wizarding World — I think you know about them."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yes," she said. "You want to take it over."

"Correct," Riddle confirmed. "But right now _you_ are the only thing I can control. That leaves me but one option."

Ginny thought about it. He was trapped in her head but wanted to take over the world. He wanted her to practice spells so that she could…

Ginny's eyes widened and she looked at Riddle in disbelief. "You want me to be the next Voldemort?" she said, wondering if he was completely off his rocker.

"Almost," Riddle corrected. "There is a Voldemort still out there in a semi-corporeal form, but after his utter defeat at an infant's hands he has proved himself unworthy of being _the_ Lord Voldemort. There is a way, my dear, to get me out of your head and back into a body of my own. You would like me out of your head, would you not?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted. "I would like that. But you know that I don't want you to take over the world…and if you can get back to your own body, I don't know why you need me to know so much magic."

"Because it is not simple to get out of here," Riddle said, some impatience leaking into his voice. "There is powerful magic surrounding what is left of the Voldemort out in the 'real world', and _nothing _can be done until it is gone. And you need to be the one to do it all. Once you have killed him and facilitated my return, you would have the privilege to rule as my right hand when we take the world."

It took a moment for Ginny to understand all of what he was saying, and when she did she started to slowly shake her head. "I don't believe you," she said finally. "You lie all the time; you revealed way too much of your plan to be telling the truth. And even if you were we both know I won't do it."

"Wouldn't you?" Riddle said, raising an eyebrow. "Look me in the eye, Ginevra, look me in the eye and tell me that you do not desire ultimate power."

Ginny looked him in the eye, but was unable to answer. The truth was that because she was growing up in a large family which was so strapped for cash that at times there had been real concerns about if they would get by, having all that power _was_ appealing. Not the killing and enslaving that accompanied it, but the power itself.

"Just because having that power sounds nice doesn't mean I'll do any of that," Ginny said finally. "Doesn't mean I'm anything like you."

Riddle stared into her eyes, and just like the previous night she caught a glimpse of something that she shouldn't be seeing in Tom Riddle, but again it was gone before she could figure it out.

"I had thought you smart," Riddle said suddenly, and now there was contempt, awful and wounding contempt in his voice. "But apparently you are just a foolish little girl, _Ginny_."

It was the first time he had ever called her that and somehow he made it sound more wounding, more belittling than the gravest of insults. Ginny felt her face coloring because even though Riddle's words should have had no effect on her, they did.

"Practice on your own time," Riddle said harshly. "I will come back when I have decided."

"Decided _what_?" Ginny asked, but everything went black for an instant, and the next thing she knew Ginny was back at Hogwarts.

Ginny lay there, not entirely sure what had happened. Something she had said had set Riddle off but she had no idea what it had been. There was an upside to it, though: he _had_ said that he would stay away until he had decided. The only problem with that was that Ginny had no idea what he was deciding, or how long that would take.

Perhaps things were taking a turn for the better. If it would keep Riddle at bay Ginny had no problems practicing spells in her free time. It would be like being free of him, just as it had been when she had been taking the potion.

Then again…for the first time since she had taken the two potions that Snape had given her, Ginny pulled down her waistband to her lower hips and looked at the writing, which had been healed into scars.

_You are mine._

No. It wouldn't be like being free. She would have to tell Harry the good news about Riddle easing up on her — after being so supportive of her, he deserved to at least partially know what was going on — but not why Riddle was doing everything. She might scare Harry away if he knew what Riddle's ultimate plans for her were, and she didn't know if she could make it without him.

It was just one more secret for Ginny Weasley to keep.

ooo

Just over a month remained in the school year, and it was passing quickly for Harry. Ginny had told him that Riddle had agreed to go away, although he doubted that the excuse she had given him as to why was true. But she was his friend, and it was her business, so he did not push.

If Ginny's nights had become more peaceful, Harry's had become more restless. He had almost forgotten about his strange dream, but now he was having it over and over, almost every night since the morning Ginny had told him that Riddle would stop. Harry couldn't somehow wonder if his peace of mind about Ginny's situation was letting these infuriating dreams in.

And they _were_ infuriating, because he could not make heads or tails of them. All he knew was that he was running down a corridor in Hogwarts, carrying someone. The corridor was not one that he had been in before, and Harry had a completely unexplainable feeling that he had traveled up stairs to get there. A woman was laughing in the background, and Harry needed something. He needed something…but he didn't know what it was. A door?

And the most frustrating part of it all was that no matter how many times he had the dream it was not starting to make sense. Each time it became a little bit clearer, but not enough to be helpful. He had worked out that he knew the person that he was carrying and that the person was hurt. But he couldn't make out what the woman was yelling, or where in Hogwarts he was.

Was it just a dream, or something else? Treelawny seemed to be the person who would know about these things, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she would say that he was dreaming about his own death. He didn't want to bother Dumbledore over a dream, and something about it told him that he shouldn't tell this friends.

So he kept quiet about it, sometimes drifting off in class and fruitlessly trying to make sense of it. For a whole week he suffered through classes, dreading whatever punishment Snape would cook up and living for the classes with Lupin, with Sirius as his assistant. Lupin had stepped up the pace with so little time left, and they were starting to learn defensive spells in addition to their earlier curriculum. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes balanced out the Potions sessions, just barely making classes worth going to.

All of this changed on the Wednesday in May. The last class of the day was a double Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it ran late with neither the students nor the instructor noticing that dinner was only a few minutes off. Finally Ron's stomach led him to wonder when it was going to be time to eat, and the class was hurriedly dismissed. Harry was the last to leave, and as he walked through the doors he turned back to look at Lupin: there was a small vial in the Professor's hand, and he winked at Harry wearily. Lupin had been looking exhausted for the entire day, and Harry realized that it must be the night of the full moon. Closing the door after him Harry left for dinner.

ooo

"— Dead, Potter! You can't —"

Someone was yelling in the background, a woman, and Harry could only hear part of what she was saying. A spell flashed over his shoulder, Harry doubled his speed, he needed to get to it, three times —

And he woke with a start, sweating profusely. Blinking, Harry reached for his glasses and sat up on the edge of his bed, trying to understand what had just happened. It was the same dream, but he had never heard any of the words before.

_"— Dead, Potter! You can't —"_

It had sounded like the mysterious woman hadn't been starting her taunt or ending it; rather, she had been in the middle of saying something. It was just one more unhelpful clue, one more piece of a puzzle that wouldn't fit in. And it wasn't just that he needed something anymore, it was that he needed to _get _to something as well. Three times? He needed to get to that place three times?

Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Harry grabbed a change of clothes, his cloak, wand and the Marauder's Map. Changing out of his pyjamas he slipped out of Gryffindor tower, planning on walking the halls to clear his mind.

As he scanned the map to see if there was anyone in his area, he noticed something odd in Lupin's office. Lupin's dot was moving around, crisscrossing the space quickly. Normally Harry would take this to mean that he was just pacing, but on the night of a full moon it was much more ominous: the Wolfsbane potion that Harry had seen Lupin hold in his hand should have made him curl up peacefully for the night. Did this mean that he hadn't taken it? And if so, did that mean that there was a fully transformed and very dangerous werewolf in Lupin's office? Would the doors hold if it wanted to get out?

Stowing the cloak under one arm Harry started to run, making sure not to head down a corridor occupied by anyone. As he ran down the stairs at a dangerous pace he noticed something odd. A dot with the name "Severus Snape" was waiting what would be about thirty feet from the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, just standing still. Why would Snape wait outside?

As Harry closed in he saw Lupin's dot pass through the doors of his office and into the connected classroom, and move rapidly at the drawing of the door: the dot hit the door and bounced away, and then repeated the maneuver. Harry rounded a corner just in time to see the werewolf's third and successful attempt as Lupin crashed through the wooden doors, landing on all fours in the hallway.

Harry had never seen Lupin in his form before, and it was a terrible sight to behold. He greatly resembled an oversized wolf, but something about his face —snout — was different, more human. The body structure was evidently different as well Lupin reared up onto his hind legs with the sort of mobility an ordinary wolf lacked.

The werewolf bared its fangs, and Harry drew his wand, suddenly wondering if he should be where he was. One bite from Lupin would doom Harry to a life of lycanthropy, and as nice as Lupin was Harry did not want to share that fate with him. Lupin sniffed the air, and Harry thought for sure it would smell him when it suddenly dropped to the ground and turned in the opposite direction. Still peeking around the corner, Harry saw what had drawn its attention. Snape had stepped out from the opposite side of the hall, wand in hand and a smile on his face.

The werewolf charged, and Snape whipped his wand in a complicated fashion; a bolt of purple light flew out and hit Lupin, stopping him in his tracks. The beast stood still, shook its head and started after Snape again, and from the surprised expression on the Potions Master's face it was clear that the spell had been intended to end the confrontation. Lupin resumed his charge, and Snape's second spell didn't even slow him down. His massive body slammed into Snape, knocking him to the ground; Snape's head hit the ground with a _crack _loud enough that Harry could hear it from the other side of the long corridor. The werewolf put its front paws on the unconscious Snape's shoulders, tilted back its head and gave a hair-raising howl that echoed through the halls. It then looked back down at Snape and seemed poised to tear out his throat.

Harry was now faced with a choice. Go out to try and save Snape and likely get himself bitten or killed in the process, or stay here and let Snape die.

Harry obviously had no wish to die or be turned into a werewolf, and to be brutally honest Snape hadn't done much to Harry that would warrant saving his life. Yet Harry had a feeling that if their situations were reversed Snape would go in there and risk his life, despite his hatred for Harry.

There really was only one thing to do. Harry stepped out into the corridor and raised his wand.

"Oi!" he yelled. "Over here! _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Ending his call with the spell that Ginny had become so proficient at Harry tried to get the werewolf's attention — and succeeded. It stopped mid-motion in the process of tearing out Snape's throat and froze at the sound of another voice, only to be hit by the spell a second later. Lupin staggered off of Snape, looking disoriented, and then regained his bearings. The werewolf turned around to face Harry, gave another howl, and charged.

Lupin moved faster than Harry would have believed possible, and even though there was a fair distance between them Harry just barely managed to throw himself aside, although he was not quick enough to dodge all injury: Lupin's left front paw slashed through Harry's shirt, tearing deep furrows into his skin.

Harry cried out in pain and fell to the ground. He had endured pains in his scar before, but the pain of these wounds temporarily robbed him of the ability to stand back up. Blood was pouring freely out of the gashes, staining his shirt dark red.

Harry managed to crane his head to the side and saw the werewolf slowly advancing on him. Harry tried to grab for his wand or get up, but he didn't have the strength; all he could do was sit there and watch death stalk over towards him. He silently wished that Snape would get up and repay the favor he now owed Harry, but in his heart he knew that the Professor was out cold.

And then a giant flying mass of black fur appeared out of nowhere, slamming into the werewolf and knocking it away from Harry.

Sirius.

The great black dog sunk its teeth into the scruff of the werewolf's neck, holding on tight. Lupin tried to twist and turn to shake Sirius off, but the dog stayed there, stubbornly latched on.

As the pair twirled about Harry started to feel lightheaded, and blackness started to creep in around the corners of his eyes. The last thing he saw before he let blackness take him was Dumbledore rushing in, and his final thought was that everything was going to be all right.

ooo

It was far from his first time to wake up in the hospital wing, so Harry wasn't all that disoriented when he woke up. The first thing he noticed, before even opening his eyes, was that he had a great pain in his chest — this was unusual, for he would have thought that Madam Pomfrey would have tended his wounds while he was out.

Managing to open his eyes, Harry groped around and found that someone had put his glasses next to him. Putting them on, he noticed that he was in an area sectioned off with curtains for privacy that contained a bed, some chairs and room for people to stand. In one of those chairs sat Sirius. Harry's godfather looked like he had been in quite a fight; what parts of him Harry could see were bruised, and he had a black eye. Despite all this Sirius was awake, and he put on what seemed to be a forced smile when he noticed Harry regain consciousness.

"Morning, Harry," Sirius said, with what also seemed to be false cheer. "Took your sweet time to wake up."

"Good to see you to," Harry said, trying to clear his head.

"How're you feeling?" Sirius asked, sounding concerned.

"Brilliant," Harry said sarcastically. "What happened last night? What was that?"

An angry look flickered across Sirius' face. "Snape happened," Sirius said shortly. "From what I've gathered, Snape didn't give Remus the actual Wolfsbane potion, knowing that he'd transform into an angry werewolf. Then he waited so that he could play the hero for stopping him, but as you know that didn't really work out so well. You were incredibly luck, Harry, because I was talking with Dumbledore when I heard the howl. I transformed, ran down there and managed to get him off of you until Dumbledore could get everything under control. Got thrown around a bit, though, which is how I got all this."

Sirius indicated his injuries.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

Sirius shrugged. "That's what I'm here for. It's too bad you didn't wake up twenty minutes ago, though; I just convinced your friends that they had to go to class. They were most reluctant to leave…especially Ginny. She missed going to meals so she could stay here, you know."

"Don't start," Harry warned Sirius, remembering their earlier conversation. "And what do you mean by she missed 'meal_s_'," Harry added after taking in the rest of the statement. "How long have I been out?"

"Over a day," Sirius said. "You weren't doing so good when we found you. You had lost a lot of blood: those were really deep cuts, and not just deep…dark, too."

"What d'you mean by 'dark'?" Harry asked.

"I mean that you were mauled by a werewolf. Those are cursed wounds you have," Sirius answered, indicating Harry's chest. "No," he added upon seeing the look on Harry's face, "you aren't going to turn into werewolf every full moon. He didn't bite you. But there's no form of magic that will erase those scars, although thankfully they can and mostly have been cured."

Harry tried to imagine what it would look like to have a set of scars running down his chest and was unable to come up with an image; he would have to wait and see for himself.

"It's not all that bad," Sirius said with forced cheer again. "Chicks dig scars. Now you just have to find a way to show Gin —"

"I _said_ don't start," Harry said irritably, not wanting to pursue that topic of conversation. "Hang on," he said, the thought somehow only just now entering his head. "Is Professor Lupin alright? …And is Snape alive?"

Sirius' smile vanished, and Harry had a feeling that he was hitting upon the reason for Sirius' unpleasant mood. "They'll both live," he said shortly. "But there are going to have to be consequences for what happened. You nearly _died_, Harry, and if Remus had gotten free range of the school there's no telling what could have happened."

Harry perked up at this. Could it be that Snape had finally crossed the line? That they were going to be needing a new Potions teacher? That —

"Remus is resigning," Sirius said heavily. "I'll be finishing his classes for what little remains of the year."

"_What_?" Harry burst out. "But he didn't do anything! It was Snape that —"

"I _know_," Sirius said sharply, silencing Harry. "Believe me, Harry, I know. But Snape's fault or not, Remus doesn't feel that it is safe for him to stay at Hogwarts any longer. That was his decision, not anyone else's."

"What about Snape?" Harry insisted. "He's behind this. He's mad because you're still alive, and he —"

"Snape stays," Sirius said, interrupting Harry again. "Dumbledore said that there will be consequences, but he was adamant that Snape stay at Hogwarts. That his leaving wasn't an option."

Harry sighed and flopped back down on his pillow. "That's not fair," he said softly.

"No," Sirius agreed gently. "But not everything that happens in life is fair. And trust me, this won't be the last you'll see of him."

"It's Snape's fault," Harry said sullenly. "He's getting rid of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had just because you played some trick on him at school."

A dark look came over Sirius' face, and he stood up. "It's not that simple, Harry," he said with a shake of his head. "Now get some rest."

ooo

Harry didn't get a chance to see Lupin before he left Hogwarts. He was still restricted to his bed, and Lupin never came to visit; Harry suspected that he did not want to face the person that he almost killed.

By the time Harry was let out it was the weekend, and there was only three weeks of school left. It was a beautiful day…that Harry was spending on a couch in Gryffindor tower, trying to get caught up in schoolwork in time for the exams.

"Need some help?"

At the sound of a familiar female voice Harry looked up from the papers strewn across the small table he had pulled up to the couch, expecting to see Hermione — but it was Ginny who had offered her assistance.

"Sure," Harry said, "But isn't all of this a year ahead of you?"

"Some of it," Ginny agreed, "but not all. I might understand that Potions, I can fill out your dream log for you, and I think I know where Hermione keeps her History of Magic notes."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So you're offering to steal Hermione's things and to forge my writing? They'll know it's not my writing."

"I'm very good at forging handwriting."

"Maybe Treelawny won't notice," Harry conceded, wondering just exactly where and why Ginny had developed that particular skill, "but Snape will."

"And what, accuse the person who just saved his life of cheating on a Potions essay?" Ginny pointed out. "And it's an essay that you would have had plenty of time to do if you hadn't stuck your neck out for him. He can't say a thing. Now give me all of that," she finished, grabbing some of Harry's work from him.

They worked in silence for a few hours, the only people in the common room. Ginny only moved once, and that was to "borrow" Hermione's notes from her trunk in the girls' dormitories. Harry had less work cut out for him than Ginny did, but it was taking him just as long to complete it. This was due to that no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the work, he was distracted by the person helping him. He kept shooting glances at Ginny, looking at how her hair would start to get in the way if she leaned too far forward and she would absentmindedly brush it back over one ear, how she would sometime slightly chew on her lip when thinking hard about the Potions essay, or every once in a while start to twirl her hair around a finger; Harry made sure to look away quickly each time so he wouldn't get caught.

Even if he didn't want to admit it, Sirius was right. He had fallen for Ginny…but did she even remotely feel the same way? Sirius had said that she did, but it was also possible that he had been making that up in an attempt to bolster Harry's courage in asking Ginny. If that had been Sirius' intention, it wasn't working. By the time they had both finished people had started to filter back into the common room, and any chance of acting was gone.

ooo

The remainder of the year up until the exams passed without event. Sirius had taken over Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and was doing his best to imitate Lupin, although Harry noticed he was nearly as discriminating towards the Slytherins as Snape was to Gryffindors.

Harry didn't know what punishment Snape had received, but whatever it was it was worth the scars on his chest. It was quite obvious that despite Harry saving his life, Snape was even less happy with Harry than ever — but there was no sabotage, no public ridicule, no taking unnecessary points from Gryffindor. Harry was certain that by the beginning of the next year that everything would be back to normal with Snape, but he would enjoy it while he could.

ooo

Of the four friends, Hermione was quite possibly the only one who was getting nervous during the exams. Harry was looking forward to the summer too much to concentrate, Ginny seemed to have something else on her mind, and Ron had given up studying altogether.

After the last test was over, Harry figured it could have been a lot worse. History of Magic had been a complete and utter failure, Divination a minor disaster and Transfiguration painful, but he thought he did okay in the others. Potions had been by far the oddest of all the exams, courtesy of Snape. Harry had managed to melt a hole in his cauldron at first, in full view of Snape, but after quietly convincing Hermione to fix the hole while Snape wasn't looking he managed to somewhat recover and make a potion that vaguely resembled his target potion — it was not very good, but perhaps enough to let him pass. He bottled it up and handed the vial to Snape; in the instant that the Professor had taken the vial Harry could practically see an internal debate about whether to drop it or not. Snape did not, and had stuffed it rather angrily in a pocket.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was proctored by Sirius, consisting of an obstacle course that was apparently of Lupin's design. After witnessing Sirius sneak onto the course and spook several Slytherins into a bog, where they received a failing grade, Harry was pretty sure that his godfather would not be asked to help out again next year.

One week after finals, on the eve of the last day of school, bad news arrived from Sirius. Fudge had called off all active attempts to locate Pettigrew due to the supposed impossibility of finding someone who could spend their whole life looking like a rat.

ooo

"Why did they have to wait until now to release the grades?" Hermione moaned, the food in front of her forgotten.

"Specifically to ruin the feast for you," Ginny replied, serving herself some of the roast potatoes as hundreds of pieces of parchment floated their way across the Great Hall, seeking out their owners. "Say, do they usually wait until now to return them?"

"Dunno," Ron said, swallowing his food with a thoughtful expression on his face. "They called off exams last year because of, well, you know…"

"I won't start crying if you say the words 'Chamber of Secrets', 'Basilisk', or 'attacks', Ron," Ginny said. "What about your first year?"

Harry frowned, searching his memory. "I'm not sure…Hermione, do you remember? Hermione?"

But Hermione's attention was fixed on four objects sailing right over to their part of the table. Each piece of parchment flew over their heads, arranged themselves so that they were over their owners, and gently fell down onto the table.

Harry picked his up and read over the results. He had gotten top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures, done badly in Divinations and completely failed History of Magic, and so on. With some surprise he noticed that his grade in Potions actually seemed to reflect his performance on the exam.

Harry put down his grades and looked at Hermione, who had just put down her grades. "How'd you do?" he asked, noticing that she looked calmer now.

"Let's see," Ginny said, grabbing Hermione's parchment and scanning it. "I don't know why you worry about it so much, it doesn't really matter until O.W.L.s. Here we go: perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect…all perfect. Hang on, you've got eleven classes listed here, and you were taking Divination for a bit — that's twelve classes. There's not time enough for twelve classes in one day."

Hermione looked apprehensive, but with a small sigh she grabbed a thin chain that hung around her neck and pulled what looked like an hourglass from under her robes.

"It's a Time-Turner," she explained at the confused look on all three faces. "It lets me travel back in time. I'd take a class, and then go back to before that class started and take another. It was rather stressful; I don't believe I'm going to do it again next year."

"You've got something that lets you go back in time?" Ron exclaimed, dropping his fork.

"But we could use it!" Harry said excitedly, his attention fixed on the small object.

"I could go back in time —" Ginny started, to be cut off by Harry.

"I could go back to before Voldemort killed my parents —"

"— Stop the attacks and Tom Riddle last year —"

"— Warn them about Pettigrew —"

"— Have Dumbledore get rid of the diary, and I wouldn't get stuck with Riddle —"

"No!" Hermione interrupted forcefully, both silencing Harry and Ginny and drawing curious stares from their neighbors.

"Why not?" Harry challenged, his mind spinning will everything that could be undone with the Time-Turner. His mum and dad could be brought back, Ginny wouldn't have to live with Riddle, and so much more.

"Because," Hermione said, "You'd be breaking not only the rule that you can't be seen, but also the Novikov Self-Consistency Principle."

"Come again?" Harry said, unsure of what she had said.

"If any of us went back to last year," Hermione explained, "we would almost certainly run into ourselves while trying to help, or at least make someone realize that there are copies of some students in the school. You could get mistaken for something dark and killed before anyone realizes you were using Time-Turners — you might even be the one to do it."

"So we'd be careful," Harry countered. "And even if I do look like my dad, I'd only be a baby back then. Nobody would know."

"Which is where the Novikov Principle comes in," Hermione said, her voice taking on that of an instructor. "Let's say you took a Time-Turner, Harry, and saved your parents. And you took another one, Ginny, and stopped all the attacks of last year. Everything was right. So would the Harry and Ginny who didn't have to go through all of that have a reason to go back in time anymore?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"But in that case there would be no one to go back," Hermione pointed out. "And if there was no one to go back, then there would be no one to alter the past. It's a paradox."

Harry thought that over for a minute, trying to get his mind around the concept. "But…what would happen if I _did_ go back?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said with a shrug. "You might get hit by a bus before you had a chance to warn anyone, or get there too late to save them. I don't know how a paradox is prevented, and I don't particularly care to find out first-hand."

"Alright," Harry said in defeat, noticing a similar disappointed expression on Ginny's face. "I just though, y'know, it'd be nice to stop that from happening."

Hermione was spared from having to respond by the sound of Dumbledore's voice. "May I have your attention, please."

Talking in the hall fell silent as Harry looked up to where Dumbledore was standing for an end of the year speech.

"I will make this quick," he said in a voice that reverberated through the Great Hall so that even the students at the far back could hear what he had to say, "for I know the food is far more interesting than my voice. First, an explanation for why you are receiving your exam results at the dinner table. There were some complaints from the Slytherin house about how the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam was held, and it took time for revisions to be made to the grades. For those students awaiting O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. results, their arrival date should not be changed by this."

Harry took a look at Sirius, who was for some reason seated next to Snape: his godfather seemed to be whistling and staring at the ceiling. Harry was now positive that Sirius would not be teaching again at Hogwarts.

"Second and last," Dumbledore continued, "while Mr. Black has been filling in for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Professor Lupin has been absent the past few weeks. I am sure all of you have heard the reason why…"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Snape. Snape had, to Harry's displeasure — but not surprise — spread an edited version of that night's events around the school, prompting Sirius to start giving out his own modified version of what had happened; Harry figured that the middle ground between the two rumors was fairly close to the actual happenings.

"— Despite that," Harry heard Dumbledore say, and he strained to listed as he realized he had missed part of the speech, "on this night, safely away from that of a full moon, I convinced Professor Lupin to return for dinner so that he might say farewell to his students."

A door at the front of the Great Hall (near the side of the table with Sirius and Snape) opened, and in walked Remus Lupin, looking just as shabby as usual and wearing a slightly unsure smile on his face.

Intense clapping of hands and shouting echoed out from the Gryffindor table, and Harry joined the rest of his house in rising from their seats and giving their former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor a standing ovation; they were joined by some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws, while the boos of the Slytherins were drowned out. Lupin acknowledged with a nod and a wave of his hand as he made his way to the table. Harry saw Sirius whisper something into Snape's ear, and whatever it was it must have had a strong effect, because Snape shot to his feet angrily, his chair propelled back a few feet, and stalked out of the Great Hall: Lupin took the vacated seat, and the Gryffindors started to sit down. Harry gave his friends a questioning look, but received no reply save shrugs; no one else seemed to have any idea what had made Snape leave.

ooo

The feast was just ending when Harry noticed Lupin slip out, and it was only by quickly excusing himself from the table and his knowledge of some shortcuts that he was able to catch up with Lupin before the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor reached the entrance to the school.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry cried out, trying to get his attention; Lupin stopped and slowly turned around to face Harry.

"It's not 'Professor' anymore, Harry," Lupin said with a hint of a smile on his face. "Just Remus. How are you feeling?" he inquired, the smile vanishing. "Your chest. I heard there was lasting damage."

"Oh," Harry said; he had quite forgotten about the injury Lupin had dealt him while transformed. "Fine, I guess. It doesn't hurt or anything."

"I am sorry about that," Lupin said, looking ashamed.

"You shouldn't be sorry about _that_," Harry corrected him. "That was Snape's fault, not yours. What you _should_ be sorry about is leaving without saying goodbye."

Lupin looked into Harry's face, and he smiled. "You may look like your father, but you are very much like your mother. Perhaps one should not be so quick to forgive, Harry. You almost died."

Despite Lupin's smile, Harry felt that there was something off with him, and something wrong with how Lupin spoke. It was as if he did not want to be forgiven.

"It was Snape's fault," Harry said again. "That wasn't you who attacked me."

"That is very kind of you, Harry," Lupin said. "Now if you will excuse me, I really must be off. There's an urgent matter to attend to."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as Lupin started to walk away. "Will I get to see you again?"

"Yes, I do believe you will," Lupin replied. "As for where I am going, well, we shall see where my search leads me."

"What search?" Harry said, starting to walk with Lupin.

Lupin halted and looked at Harry: there was a look of grim determination on his face. "I'm going rat hunting," he answered. "The Ministry may have given up on finding little Peter, but I have not."

ooo

The first time the Hogwarts Express had taken him back to King's Cross, Harry had been full of mixed emotions. The second time he had been torn between a desire to stay at the school and to be with Ginny. Both times, the prospect of spending the summer with the Dursleys had been a damper on whatever else would happen that summer, even if it only had been four weeks last time, and two this year.

But Sirius had promised some surprise, and Harry had seen him board the Hogwarts express. He did not know what his godfather had in mind, but hopefully the surprise that Sirius had mentioned would help those two weeks go by easy. After that he wasn't exactly sure what would happen. The impression he had gotten from Sirius was that Hermione and some of the Weasleys might come to Sirius' new house later in the summer.

The train screeched to a halt, and last goodbyes were hurriedly said as Harry set out to find the Dursleys, which didn't end up being too difficult. Exiting through the magical wall he had no trouble identifying the large figure of his uncle.

The car ride home would have been silent if it hadn't been for Hedwig. Uncle Vernon had not been able to fit the owl's cage in the trunk, and her shrill cries echoed in the confines of the car as they drove, prompting a torrent of threats and curses from Vernon.

When they arrived back at the Dursleys' house it fell to Harry to carry all of his school things inside, and he could feel his uncle's eyes on him the whole time. After he hauled the last item inside he saw that Vernon was waiting for him, looking cross.

"I've bloody had it with that owl of yours," he said in a low tone. "One more noise from it and —"

Hedwig chose that moment to emit her loudest screech yet, and Uncle Vernon's face turned a darker shade of purple. "That's it!" he roared. "No more owl. Throw it out!"

And his Uncle pointed towards the door.

Harry would not part with Hedwig, but openly defying Uncle Vernon could have consequences. Reminding himself that he would only be at the Dursleys for a couple of weeks, he shook his head. "No."

Vernon Dursley looked taken aback by his nephew refusing a direct order. "No?" he repeated.

"That's right, no," Harry said, trying to sound firm. "I'm not throwing her away."

The purple on his face turned to dark red, and he raised a hand — to strike, Harry suspected — when there was a loud knock on the door. Hand frozen in midair, Vernon looked from Harry to the door, and then back at Harry again. "Don't move," he commanded in a threatening voice, and stomped over to the door, an irritated expression on his face. He yanked the door open — and revealed Sirius Black.

"Hello," Sirius said, not a hint of cheer in his voice despite a smile on his face. "May I come in?"

Vernon stood there, frozen and wide-eyed before bolting for the telephone, bowling Harry over, and as he was knocked to the ground Harry remembered one of the things Sirius had said to the Minister the night he was cleared.

_"I want an article pronouncing my innocence on the cover of anything, be it the Daily Prophet or local Muggle newspaper, which reported my guilt to be run for three months straight. That way I don't get cursed by groups of wizards who still think that I'm a murderer. On second thought, don't tell anyone in Little Whinging." _

_Don't tell anyone in Little Whinging_. His relatives didn't know that Sirius was innocent.

A wand appeared in Sirius' hand, and just as Vernon reached the telephone it suddenly turned into a large cobra, hissing and rearing up. Harry could only hope that Sirius had made some kind of arrangement, because as far as Harry knew any magic used in this house meant getting in trouble with the Ministry.

Vernon jumped away from the snake, and whirled around to find Sirius' wand a foot away from his face.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Sirius said dryly. He was clad in typical Muggle clothes, but was still recognizable as the man in the wanted image.

"Sirius — Sirius Black," Vernon stammered, looking as though he might have a heart attack.

"That's me," Sirius acknowledged. "Now, if you wouldn't mind getting your…lovely…wife down here, I think we should have a chat."

Vernon's eyes flickered from the wand to Sirius, and Harry could tell that he was weighing his sense of protection for his wife against self preservation. The latter won and Vernon slowly turned his head in the direction of the stairs.

"Petunia!" he called. "We have…guests."

Petunia Dursley made her way down the stairs, and Harry watched as her eyes almost comically widened upon the sight of Sirius.

"I wouldn't go for that," Harry advised as she started for the telephone. "It's a snake now."

The snake hissed, and Sirius gestured with his wand towards a couch. "Sit down," he ordered.

The Dursleys meekly followed his instructions and Sirius took a seat opposite them; Harry stood in the doorway, not sure if he should get too close.

"Right," Sirius said, rolling his wand between his fingers. "You know who I am, and I think you may have figured out that I'm not a Muggle."

There was a _thump_ as the former telephone slithered off the table and fell to the floor. The Dursleys nodded.

"Glad to get that out of the way," Sirius said, and turned the snake back into a telephone. "Now, you no doubt know that I'm a mass-murderer, but what you don't know is that I was one of James Potter's best friends — in fact, Harry is my godson. So after escaping from an inescapable prison I go to check in on Harry…and find _this_."

Sirius' voice was icy, and the two Muggles shrank back.

"You have treated Harry like trash," Sirius spat out, "and in doing so dishonored the memory of James and Lily Potter. Lucky for you that someone I respect wants you alive, but things are going to change. Starting now. If Harry wants something, _anything_, you give it to him. And if I don't get an owl every few days from him saying that you're doing that, or if he says that you're not treating him with respect, I will come back here. Do you understand?"

Vernon mumbled something incoherent, and Sirius raised his voice. "I said _do you understand_?" he repeated forcefully.

The Dursleys nodded meekly, and Sirius smiled. "Good," he said. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be off."

And with that Sirius was gone, quickly striding out of the room and house, giving Harry a pat on the head as he passed. When the door closed behind him Harry looked at his aunt and uncle.

"About giving me anything I want," Harry said, trying to suppress a smile. "I think there will be a few changes around here."

ooo

Never before had two weeks with his Aunt and Uncle been so easy to endure. Both of them seemed scared out of their wits that Sirius would return, but Harry still didn't try to push his luck too far. Of course, now _they_ were making _Harry_ meals, instead of the other way around, but besides that Harry spent most of his time in his room, either writing a letter to Ginny or waiting for the reply letter. A good portion of the rest of the time he spent looking at the present Ginny had given him two holidays ago, that he kept in a box at the bottom of his trunk for safety. Each time he took it out they started a new match and the colors shifted to represent different teams, but as he had noticed when he had first gotten it, it was not in pristine condition. The one player still had a tendency to hit the stands, and a bit of Spello-tape was now holding a goal hoop upright after a Chaser had slammed right into it.

Harry could have taken it to any one of a number of people to get it fixed, but he liked it the way it was. It was how it had been when Ginny had owned it, and that was how he wanted it.

They day he was supposed to leave for Sirius' place, Harry realized that in all this time he had not sent one letter on his own to either Ron or Hermione. Yes, he had replied to Hermione's letter asking how he was, but besides that all of the letters had been for Ginny. They hadn't been special letters, just conversation, jokes and the like. Ginny had mentioned that they had gotten tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, and that Harry was invited. Still, he kept each letter he received hidden with the model field.

Suddenly Harry wasn't sure if he was looking forward to the end of his time with the Dursleys or not. He had pretty much sorted out how he felt about Ginny, but he was unsure how to proceed — and more importantly, not entirely sure that he could maintain his usual relationship with her until he figured out what to do.

But ready or not, it was time to go. Bringing his possessions out onto the street he hailed the Knight Bus, and gave the driver an address that Sirius had provided along with eleven sickles. After about fifteen minutes of having to put up with Stan Shunpike the bus screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere, and when the doors opened Harry expected someone to board; surely Sirius wouldn't have chosen such a remote and lifeless place to live. But a few seconds passed with no activity and Stan poked his head around a corner so that he could see Harry.

"'Ey, you goin' or not?"

Realizing that this was in fact his destination, Harry grabbed his things and exited the Knight Bus, which wasted no time in leaving for its next passenger.

Looking around, Harry saw that he was not alone, as he had previously thought. Atop a hill he saw a small group of figures waving at him. He made his way over to them, dragging his trunk and Hedwig up the slope. When he got to the top he was able to determine who was there, and it came as a pleasant surprise to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny. After two weeks of not seeing Ginny Harry couldn't help but stare a bit at her, and he averted his eyes when her gaze turned to him.

"Hi," Harry said, and looked quickly to Ron and Hermione. "How were your summers?"

"Great," Hermione said, giving Ron a sideways look.

"Well, _mine_ wasn't," Ron grumbled. "I tell you, you've got it lucky Hermione. 'You'll have plenty of time for fun later,' mum says. 'Now you work.'"

Ginny shot Ron a look. "Just because mum asked you to actually help out for once doesn't mean you've got it bad. Now come on, let's go."

Ginny stooped down to retrieve an object on the ground, and Harry realized that she hadn't greeted him, or made direct eye contact. He was unsure whether this was a good sign, or a bad one. When Ginny straightened Harry noticed that she was holding what appeared to be an old shoe.

"Um, Ginny?" Harry asked, breaking the silence between them. "Why're you holding a shoe?"

"Oh," Ginny said, her cheeks turning a faint pink. "Hi, Harry. The shoe's been turned into a Portkey."

"Portkey?" Harry repeated.

"A Portkey is an ordinary object that has been enchanted," Hermione explained. "At a certain time — ten forty-five for us — it transports everyone holding it to a specific location. It's not quite as efficient as Floo powder or Apparition, though."

"Then why are we using it?" Harry asked.

"Because Sirius doesn't want anyone to know where he lives," Ginny responded. "Reporters and all that. He said that he was busy right now, and we'd need him to Apparate onto his property. And the Ministry can detect Floo travel and licensed Portkeys, so that only really leaves one option."

"Hang on," Harry said, feeling perplexed. "If Portkeys can be detected, why're we using one?"

"_Licensed_ Portkeys," Ginny clarified, a small smile on her face. "That shoe is illegal."

Harry took a good look at the shoe. It was a blotchy grey, torn up in many places with the laces missing, and it smelled bad. In short, it did not look remotely like any form of illegal material.

"It doesn't really look it, does it?" Ron said, voicing Harry's thoughts.

"I suppose that's the idea," Hermione said. "If a Muggle finds it they won't think it's magical at all. Oh, it's time," Hermione said as the shoe started to glow. "Quick, grab a hold!"

Harry managed to get a grip on the shoe just as it activated. It felt as though the shoe gave a giant yank to Harry's body, and suddenly he was in another, different clearing, lying on his back. Blinking, Harry sat up and noticed that Ron had also fallen to the ground, although both Hermione and Ginny had managed to stay on their feet.

"That was fun," Ron said sarcastically, getting to his feet. "And we have to do that again to get to the World Cup."

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Ron, it wouldn't be so bad if you didn't fall down."

As the conversation started to heat up Harry turned in a circle, taking a look around. They really were out in the country, with no man-made objects in sight. No, Harry realized, that wasn't true. Perhaps three or four miles away sat a house which he assumed to be Sirius'. Long and wide, it was only two stories tall except for one section that resembled a tower.

"I think that's where we're supposed to go," Harry said, pointing at the house.

"Are you sure?" Ron said doubtfully. "This dropped us off pretty far from that house."

"Having us walk is probably Sirius' idea of fun," Harry said dryly.

ooo

Walking what was closer to four miles actually turned out to be a good idea. Moving at a moderate pace it took over an hour to get there, which allowed for plenty of time to talk. But what Harry suspected the real purpose of the walk was seeing the scenery. His godfather had picked a beautiful place, filled with wonderful plants and wildlife. They passed a doe grazing in a field, calmly munching on some planets and completely unfazed by the four humans walking by it. Ginny seemed rather distracted by it, and Harry grabbed her gently by the arm, pulling her out of her trance and along. Harry was aware of his face reddening as he made contact with her arm — thankfully Ron and Hermione were still quarreling — but instead of letting go of her arm, somehow his hand found itself around hers.

Ginny's hand was much smaller than Harry's, and it felt good to hold. They walked that way, hand-in-hand and not saying anything, for the rest of the way to the house, and to his pleasant surprise Harry found that the worries and fears that had plagued him early on in the day were gone, replaced by a warm, happy feeling. He would have been quite content if they had kept on walking for the rest of his life, but as with all things, both good and bad, it came to an end.

When they were a few hundred feet from the house a door opened and Sirius stepped out; Ginny's hand slid from Harry's, and the feeling vanished.

"Afternoon," Sirius greeted them. "Good to see you all. Did you enjoy the little stroll?"

The truth was that Harry had, but he felt compelled to complain. "It was pretty boring," Harry lied.

"Boring?" Sirius repeated. "I'm guessing you didn't run into the Unicorns or the Chimera."

There was a moment of silence, and then Harry spoke. "You're joking, right?"

"No, not at all," Sirius said, his face devoid of any clues that might indicate that he was indeed having joking. "Bought two of the pretty horses and one of the lion-goat things."

"But Mr. Black —" Hermione started, looking slightly exasperated, but Sirius interrupted.

"It's Sirius, Hermione."

"But Sirius," Hermione continued, still looking at Sirius as if she clearly did not believe him, "that's just not possible. Unicorns and Chimaeras are Class Four and Five magical animals, and not for private ownership. It's illegal to sell or buy them —"

"And that Portkey you came in on was real legal," Sirius countered, but Hermione pressed.

"And while Unicorns are mostly harmless, Chimaeras are _dangerous_. Only one Wizard has ever killed one, and you want me to believe that you have one running around here?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've found that it is extraordinarily easy to get Fudge to bend laws. Just have to mention an interview with Rita Skeeter and he jumps right to it. Don't worry, the Chimera has been de-fanged, de-clawed and de-fired."

Hermione still looked extremely skeptical, but Sirius refused to back down from his position. Not wanting to be in this confrontation all day Harry spoke up.

"I thought this place was supposed to be by the sea?" he said. From what he had seen so far they did not appear to be anywhere remotely close to the ocean.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Yeah, about that," he said, looking slightly frustrated. "Someone in the Ministry leaked its location to the _Prophet_ before any concealing charms got cast, and suddenly a few hundred reporters were standing around, waiting for me to come out. So I switched spots to here, where they won't find me. Anyway," he said, looking at his watch, "It's time for lunch. Just finished making it."

"You can make food?" Ginny joked.

Sirius sighed. "They're _sandwiches_. I can handle that much."

ooo

The sandwiches weren't half bad, and the five ate in relative silence. Before lunch they had gone on a quick tour of the house, of which Harry was very impressed. Unlike traditional houses of its size — what Harry assumed Draco Malfoy's house was like, for example — each floor was larger than a typical counterpart. This was because it only had two levels, and it somehow made it feel less like a mansion.

The tower was the exception to the style that the rest of Sirius' house conformed to. It was obviously modeled after Gryffindor tower, and the moment Harry set foot up the winding staircase the walls were decorated in crimson and gold. That was not the only thing that seemed familiar, though. On the way up the staircase there were four doors to four rooms that would be for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny if they wanted them. The layout was quite like the Burrow in how the doors were directly off the staircase, which must have added a sense of familiarity for Ron and Ginny. At the top of the stairs and the tip of the tower there was a room the size of the Weasley's sitting room. Comfortable-looking furniture was scattered about, the walls were filled with large windows, and there was a fireplace in front of an enormous couch.

As he finished his second sandwich, Harry understood what Sirius had accomplished by his decorating of the house. He had managed to take a completely new place and make it so that the people who he desired to visit would feel at home.

Hermione started up her argument with Sirius again, and he stopped this thoughts of the house so he could listen in.

" — a doe, but that was all," Hermione was saying. "Granted we weren't out for long, but you can't possibly have gotten Unicorns and a Chimera."

"I assure you I did," Sirius said calmly. "And they're shy — well, the Chimera's not, but the Unicorns are. I don't think you have any idea how big this property is, Hermione."

"You're lying," Hermione insisted.

Sirius chuckled. "How about this," he said, addressing the whole group. "I've got something that should keep you busy for the summer. I've got some cameras, and if someone manages to take a picture of a Unicorn, each of you gets one-hundred Galleons. Same for the second Unicorn. If you manage to get a picture of the Chimera, well, four-hundred each. And if you can prove that I'm lying about one then you get the same sum as if you found it."

Sirius was casually throwing out a lot of money, and all eyes save Harry's were fixed on the older Wizard. To Harry the sum meant little in terms of his financial situation, but six-hundred Galleons was a lot of money for Hermione, and a fortune for Ron and Ginny.

"Deal," Ron and Ginny said at the same time, and Harry looked at Hermione, who gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

"Deal," Harry said.

ooo

"So are you betting that we'll find it or we won't?" Harry asked Ginny as they marched across a field, magical cameras strapped around their necks and maps that Sirius had provided in their hands. They had let Hermione figure out their strategy, and she had decided it would be best to split up. She also thought it was best not to go alone, though, in case someone got lost. Harry had volunteered to go along with Ginny as a way to spend more time with her.

"Not," Ginny said, and Harry was reminded of how glad he was to have her as a friend, someone who would not ridicule him for even asking the question. "Sirius is a good bluffer, but he's got tiny wrinkles around his eyes that move when he's not being entirely truthful. I saw that when he was talking about the Chimera. And I think he'll pay the gold as long as we put in effort, because even if they did exist it would be hard to find them all in the time we have. He wants to give out the money."

"And are you okay with that?" Harry asked, shifting the balance of his backpack slightly to make it more comfortable.

"I'm not sure," Ginny admitted. "I mean, I know we need the money, but I don't like charity. Mum's that way too —"

"Tell me about it," Harry grumbled, thinking of the time he had tried to talk Mrs. Weasley into allowing him to split his account with them.

"What d'you mean?" Ginny asked curiously, and Harry winced inwardly; he hadn't meant to say that.

"Well, um, Mrs. Weasley, your mum, she mentioned that one time," Harry said weakly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Harry Potter, are you lying to me?" she asked. "You are," she confirmed when he looked away.

"Okay," Harry said, giving in reluctantly; admitting that he had offered what amounted to charity felt awkward. "It was before your first year," he explained. "My parents left me more gold then I need, so I offered to split my account with yours, but your mum wouldn't let me."

Harry had been looking at the ground when he said this, and when he finished and looked up at Ginny he saw that her jaw had dropped in surprise.

"You offered to _split_ your account?" she said in disbelief. "Harry…"

She trailed off, and Harry noticed that she was now a bright shade of red. It seemed now like if one of them wasn't blushing it was the other.

"C'mon," Harry said after a moment, hoping to break the awkwardness. "Let's go find a Chimera."

"I'd much rather find a Unicorn," Ginny replied.

ooo

Approximately four-hundred thousand acres sounded like a lot of land when someone said it. When walking that distance it seemed like even more, and impossible amount of land. Harry was sure that it had taken some heavy blackmailing of Fudge for Sirius to have suddenly gotten that much property and to have it magically proceed; Harry assumed that there had to be spells keeping Muggles from seeing anything out of the ordinary. Fortunately the large map Sirius was very detailed, and if someone tapped it with their wand it would display their location. While not as impressive as the Marauder's Map they did share many qualities; Harry supposed that this was because one of the creators of the Map had designed the one he was currently holding.

Harry looked at the horizon, where the sun was starting to set. They had been at it all day, and while they had been having a good time they had hardly made any headway.

"Ginny," Harry said, stopping and taking out the map. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. Take a look at this."

Ginny obliged and marched back over to Harry, who had completely unfolded the map. "Yeah?" she said, taking a swig from her water bottle, which seemed never to run low on water not matter how much she had to drink.

"I think we're going about this the wrong way," Harry stated. "Look at how much ground we've covered, and how much there is."

Harry drew an imaginary line from the house to their current position. Despite their fair pace it wasn't a long line on the large map.

"That's not much," Ginny admitted.

"I think we should head back today, and then when we go back out again we used our brooms," Harry explained. "We can cover a lot of the open land fast, although there are some places where we'll need to go on foot."

Ginny thought about that for a second, and the nodded. "Good idea. But we've been walking for about eight hours with only a few breaks," she pointed out. "The sun's about to go down. We're not going to make it back today."

Harry scratched the back of his neck. That fact should have been obvious to him, but he had been so immersed in the walk and in Ginny that he hadn't thought about when to turn back.

"I don't have anything in my pack for sleeping," Harry said. "And I don't know how to conjure up or Transfigure something."

"I have a blanket in mine," Ginny said. "We can find a nice, flat spot, put it down, and use our packs for pillows."

ooo

Ginny's idea was surprisingly comfortable, even if it took some time to find a suitable spot. By the time they settled down the sun had already fallen and the sky was a velvety black sprinkled with white dots. It was mesmerizing, and actually kept Harry awake rather than putting him to sleep. Somehow — he wasn't entirely sure how he knew, he just knew — Ginny was awake too, also silent.

His arms at his sides, Harry nearly started when he felt something touch his left hand, but then realized that it was Ginny. Opening up his closed hand he let her take it, and now he closed his eyes. Sleep soon took him, and though he had no dreams Harry had a feeling of peace.

ooo

At first Ginny didn't know where she was. Or _who_ she was. She wasn't able to control her actions, and was only able to see her body when her head moved in such a way that it came into view — it was like what Ginny imagined a Muggle movie would be like, except she was trapped in the body of one of the characters. From what Ginny could see she seemed to be around twenty years old, maybe a few years younger, maybe a few older. The body still felt familiar, if a bit larger, and when her head turned fast red hair whipped across her face. It was then that she realized that she was in the body of an older Ginny, but that didn't disturb her quite as much as what the body was doing.

Ginny was immersed in a massive fight with spells flying everywhere. It was quite obvious that there were two sides, and the combatants were easy to distinguish from each other: half of the fighters were mostly wearing light-colored robes, sometimes white, sometimes light brown, some patterned but never dark brown or black. The other half was dressed in black uniforms, a good portion of them wearing masks. Lights of every color flashed across the field they were on — Ginny suddenly realized that they were on the grounds of Hogwarts — and she had an idea who the good guys and the bad guys were. The people in black were shooting green curses that seemed to kill on contact, or red ones that dropped their opponents to the ground, screaming in pain. The more rag-tag group, on the other hand, seemed to be using a mix of curses, jinxes and hexes that merely incapacitated their enemies. They were what Ginny would call the "good guys", and the people in black would be the "bad guys".

Ginny was wearing black robes. She twirled through the fight, parrying spells with a proficiency that the real Ginny didn't have, and dropping opponents to the floor, dead. At first the faces were unfamiliar, but with growing horror on Ginny's part and a smile on the older-Ginny's face she slew Dean, blocked an attack from Professor Sprout and delivered a curse straight to the Witch's chest.

Ginny took some solace in the fact that this was a dream and not real, but it _felt_ real. After a few more kills Ginny realized that she was slowly working her way out of the fight, and eventually came to the boundary. Swatting away a last spell she marched up a hill with purpose, down to where Hagrid's cabin would be. It was about five-hundred feet away and burning, and half-way between her and the cabin was a single figure. Carrying herself with the air of someone extremely important she made her way to the figure, who turned out to be Lucius Malfoy. His faced was badly bruised and cut: it appeared someone had been using him as a punching bag.

"Where is he?" Ginny asked sharply, and the real Ginny noted that her voice sounded harsher than it should.

Lucius cowered, and pointed to the burning hut. "He is over there, My Lady."

Ginny swiped her wand and Lucius fell to the ground, a new wound on his brow. As the older-Ginny quickly strode to the hut, the Ginny trapped inside her body tried to take stock of her situation. There was a large battle going on, but Ginny seemed to be on the wrong side of it. Why?

When she got closer to the hut Ginny could see that there was someone standing right next to it, his eyes fixed on the burning structure. Ginny inwardly shuddered — she could not actually do so — when she saw who it was.

It was Riddle.

"Report," he said softly, the crackling fire almost drowning out his voice.

"The resistance is crumbling, Lord Voldemort," older-Ginny replied, and Ginny was slightly sickened to hear the tone of admiration, respect, and what could have been lust in her voice. "I felled Dumbledore. All that remains is Potter. Do you wish me to kill him for you?" older-Ginny added, raising one eyebrow.

"No, my dear," Riddle — Voldemort — said. "Bring him to me. _I_ shall be the one to kill Harry Potter."

Ginny bowed her head slightly. "As you command, my lord."

— And Ginny was lying under the stars, her hand in Harry's, and her eyes wide open.

Swallowing, Ginny withdrew her hand and clasped it along with her other hand on top of her chest. She had to believe that Riddle was behind that nightmare. And that was because she had to believe that it was a nightmare, not some flash of the future. Before the Chamber of Secrets she had experienced regular nightmares, and they weren't that real. Only her times with Riddle were that real. She knew that Riddle wanted her to help him take over the world and serve as his lieutenant, and that seemed to fit the dream pretty well.

Ginny sighed. Well, if he was trying to plant a seed of doubt in her head then he was certainly succeeding. Of all the things in that dream, one thing stood out over all the others as the most disturbing. It wasn't killing fellow students. It wasn't her proclamation of killing Dumbledore. It wasn't even promising to hand Harry over to his death.

It was that a small part of Ginny had enjoyed the power. Enjoyed having men as powerful as Lucius Malfoy cower before her.

Ginny shuddered and tucked her legs in close to her body. In a way that had been as bad as anything Riddle had ever done to her before. He had been angry about something the last time they had been together, and while she had been doing as he said, practicing the _Petrificus Totalus_ over and over to the point where she was starting to be able to not need to speak, maybe this was his revenge.

It was a while before Ginny fell asleep again, but it was a restless sleep, and it brought her no comfort.

ooo

Ginny was gone when Harry woke up. Putting on his glasses and rubbing sleep out of his eyes he looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen, and her pack was gone. Still waking up, an illogical part of Harry started to worry that a Chimera had eaten Ginny in the middle of the night. This fear was quickly put to rest as Ginny emerged out of the tree line.

"Where were you?" Harry yawned.

"Refilling my water bottle," Ginny answered shortly, walking past him to collect the blanket.

This explanation seemed rather odd to Harry, because the water bottles they had been given did not seem to run out of water. Also, the quick glimpse of her face had looked like she had hardly slept at all.

"Did you sleep okay?" Harry asked cautiously, knowing what resided in her head.

"Yep," Ginny responded, finishing folding the blanket. "I'm just eager to get back."

ooo

They made good pace, and when combined with an early start they arrived back at the house just after noon. Harry was feeling rather tired from all the walking and was surprised to find Ron and Hermione waiting with Sirius.

"Where were you two?" Ron demanded as soon as they got within talking distance.

"Looking for Sirius' ponies," Ginny shot back, and Harry knew her voice well enough to tell that she was on the verge of getting into a shouting match. "You?"

"But you were gone _all night_," Ron emphasized.

"Yeah?" Ginny said, raising her eyebrows. "So? I don't recall anything being said about that. Or are _you_ making rules now?"

Ginny has seemed irritable to Harry on the walk back, and it appeared that she was going to vent her frustration on Ron, who Harry knew would be perfectly happy to get into a row with his sister about behavior or actions he disapproved of. Hermione stepped in to try and make the peace, Ginny turned on her, and Harry knew he had to get out of there. He turned a pleading gaze to Sirius, who nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"So," Sirius said, entering the house as Ron and Ginny started to shout, "Have fun?"

"What's with Ron?" Harry asked, glancing in their direction.

"Everyone expected you to come back before nightfall. Not that you were supposed to," Sirius added as Harry opened his mouth, "but it was what we _thought_ would happen. Ron became worried about his sister, and it snowballed from there. But you didn't answer my question. How was it?"

"We didn't see your _Chimera_," Harry said sarcastically as Sirius used his wand to make some bottle fly off a shelf and to his hand. "What's that?"

"Firewhisky," Sirius replied, taking a drink. "You can try some for your birthday. Go on. Did you find the Unicorns?"

"No," Harry said, more sure than ever that none of these creatures existed. "We walked all day, and then I realized we weren't making headway and should use brooms instead. Ginny agreed, but it was too late to head back. Ginny had packed a blanket in her pack, so she found a good spot and we slept together —"

Harry was interrupted by Sirius, who appeared to have inhaled a large amount of his Firewhisky. Coughing and spluttering he tried to clear his lungs.

"_What _did you say?" he wheezed.

"Ginny put down a blanket and we used it as a bed for the night," Harry said, unsure what the problem was.

Sirius started at Harry for a moment and then began to chuckle. "Oh, Harry," he said. Sirius looked in the direction of Ron, Ginny and Hermione, and from the sound of it the row was still going strong.

"We've got some time," Sirius stated. "Come to my room, Harry. I think this might not be a bad time to have a little talk."

ooo

Harry sat on a chair in Sirius' bedroom, digesting what he had heard. The previous summer he had overheard snippets of a conversation that Uncle Vernon had with Dudley that he had dubbed "The Talk". What Sirius had told him was similar, but with some substantial differences; one of the two wasn't telling the complete truth, and Harry had a suspicion that it was his godfather.

"So," Harry started, eyeing Sirius suspiciously, "that's all true?"

"Every word of it," Sirius confirmed. "I have books with moving pictures, but you don't get to see those until you're older."

"But you contradicted yourself," Harry said, confused. "You said that —"

"Shagging," Sirius provided.

"That shagging is a good thing and should be done as much as possible," Harry continued slowly.

"Absolutely," Sirius agreed.

"And then you said that I have a medical condition that prevents me from…shagging…redheads under the age of seventeen."

"That's not contradicting myself," Sirius countered. "It's informing you of a very rare and unfortunate disease you contracted when you were just an infant."

"I don't know," Harry said suspiciously. "It sounded like you were talking about, well, Ginny."

"_Ginny_?" Sirius said in what Harry suspected was fake surprise, raising both eyebrows. "Harry, you're reading _far_ too much into what I said. Think of how many gingers there are at Hogwarts."

Harry racked his brain, and could only come up with the Weasleys.

"I can think of four," Harry answered. "Fred, George, Ron and Ginny."

"And how well do you know the other houses?" Sirius pointed out. "I saw plenty when I was there."

While it was true that there were almost certainly other redheads at Hogwarts, Harry was still pretty sure that Sirius was making this up.

"Of course," Sirius said, a smile crossing his face, "you can look it up in the library if you want. I'm sure Hermione will be delighted to help."

Shooting Sirius and angry look Harry left the room, heading downstairs to where the fight was just beginning to quiet down. He wouldn't have been missed.

Throughout the rest of the day one thing kept bothering Harry, only pausing when he went to sleep. Why had Sirius warned him away from Ginny?

ooo

The next day they flew out on brooms, Harry reducing his speed so that Ginny's Nimbus could keep pace with his Firebolt. Harry wondered how his other two friends were doing: Hermione had refused to ride a broom of her own, and it had taken a lot of coaxing and promises to get her to ride on Ron's broom.

As Harry expected, they saw no Unicorns or Chimeras while whisking over the countryside. Harry had been tracing their progress on the map, and they slowly worked their way through the massive amount of land that Sirius had blackmailed the Ministry into giving him.

This continued with relatively little change for three weeks. It never really got boring, though. The flying made it worth the silly search, and about a third of the time they took off, performing slightly more normal summer activities. Harry was having a pretty good summer. Maybe the best he had ever had.

ooo

Ginny wasn't sure which had been the worst summer she had ever had, the one right after the Chamber, or this summer. Scratch that —this one was worse. Oh, it was great being with Harry, and everything that happened during the day was great.

But as was the norm for Ginny, bad things happened at night. And every time she went to bed, she was sickened by the thought that dominated her mind, her hope.

_I wish it would be Tom tonight._

Ginny hadn't seen Riddle since before the nightmares started, and perversely she had started to miss him. As uncomfortable as their times together had been, at least she hadn't felt like she was about to go insane.

There were seven nightmares, and over the three weeks that she had been plagued by them Ginny hadn't noticed a pattern in the order in which they occurred. Each one had her performing horrible acts, fighting for Voldemort, and enjoying every second of it. Some had her clearly showing an attraction to Riddle/Voldemort, and one stopped just short of an intimacy Ginny _really_ didn't want to think about. And each time she woke up, Ginny Weasley felt even more like she was going to go crazy.

It was Riddle who was doing this, to be sure. And sometimes the adult Voldemort/Riddle would do something odd: he would warn her not to get too close to Harry, or that she _was_ getting too close and had to back away. Why Riddle had any interest in her love life —or lack of one, currently — Ginny had no clue.

It was Sunday, July 25th that everything changed. Ginny should have been planning for Harry's birthday, which was just six days away, but the fact that he even had a birthday was the last thing on her mind. The hunt for the mystical Unicorns and the Chimera was growing less and less important to Ginny every day, but she kept up the façade, pretending to be normal. She had plenty of practice faking her true emotions, although she was pretty sure that Harry saw through it.

Riddle was not dropping hints that she not get involved with Harry: he was giving orders. And so Ginny did the absolute thing that she most did _not_ want to do: she stayed away from Harry was much as possible. Sometimes, when they were not flying, Harry would step closer to her, or move to take her hand, like they had done earlier in the summer. And each time Ginny would smoothly move away, making it look as if she had just not noticed.

The worst part about it was that she was pretty sure that Harry felt the same way about her that she did about him. But even if she had the strength to defy Tom Riddle, Ginny knew that she wasn't thinking clearly. She had been making stupid, obvious mistakes recently, and had been relying more on instinct rather than thought to keep her going.

It was a couple hours until noon, and they were on foot now, having dismounted in a clearing to "search" the surrounding woods. Ginny had spotted a nearby river overhead, and while Harry gathered their things together she jogged over to it. Having a little space to herself felt good, some time to think, to clear her head.

It took only fifteen or twenty seconds to reach the stream, and when Ginny did she knelt down beside it, shouldering off her pack and setting it down beside her. Cupping her hands, she took a scoop of the fresh water and drank a little, and then used the rest on her face. Drying her face off with her sleeve, Ginny felt a little better. The cold river water tasted better than the bottomless counterpart in the water bottles.

Ginny stood up and turned around — and promptly fell back down as she bumped into Harry.

"Sorry," he apologized, holding out a hand.

"It's okay. I was just off balance," Ginny replied, taking the offered hand and letting him help her up. Ginny miscalculated, though, and when she got to her feet her face was at most an inch or two away from Harry's.

"What were you doing?" Harry asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Ginny didn't think; if she had she never would have acted. Stepping forward, Ginny reached up and wrapped her left arm around Harry's neck, bringing him close. As her lips touched his there was no conscious thought in her mind, just the part of her that had wanted this for many months acting.

Ginny closed her eyes. She had read romance novels before, and had always imagined that at her age her first kiss would be short, gentle. This was not that. Perhaps under a different situation it would have been like that, but Ginny wasn't sure that Harry even completely realized that he was —

And then her eyes flew opened, and she the realization of what had just happened hit her.

She had kissed Harry. Her best friend. She had done what Riddle had said not to do. And she had kissed Harry. Wrenching away, Ginny staggered back a few feet, and then sprinted off faster than she had ever ran before, pretending she couldn't hear Harry calling after her. Reaching the brooms, she grabbed his Firebolt, the faster of the two, without thinking. An instant later she was in the air and headed…somewhere. She wasn't sure. All that Ginny did know for sure was that she had messed up, made a really big mistake. And this time she wasn't sure if she would be able to fix it. So she did the only thing that she able to do.

She ran.

ooo_  
A/N: It took nineteen chapters until the first kiss. And that was a bit lighthearted, right? …Right? _

_Ah well. Finishing up Chapter 20 right now, and then it just need editing._


	20. Never the Same Again

**Just You and Me**

_A/N: **PLEASE READ!** Okay. As it turned out this chapter was _not_ up quick, because it did not just require the usual editing that I thought it needed. When I finished editing…it sucked. There's not really any other way to describe that version of the chapter. I tried messing around with it, but in the end I had to scrap pretty much the whole chapter. I don't know if it's 'good' or not, but I do know that it is better. There was also a lot of editing to be done in other chapters, which I ask you please read about in the next paragraph. _

_This is the "Please read" part. **There have been multiple edits to previous chapters**. Chapters 3, 13, 14, 15, 18 and 19 have all been edited (although it was hardly an edit in C3's case). There are some minor wording edits that I won't point out, but there were also less-minor edits, some rewritten scenes. A good portion of, if not all of, Tom Riddle's interactions with Ginny post Chamber of Secrets have been edited to reflect changes I made in his character and later portions of the plot. I do not anticipate doing this again._

_I would like to emphasize that while I highly recommend going back and reading the edited scenes (I will include a list of them so that the whole chapter[s] won't have to be reread, although there's nothing wrong with doing that), _it is not necessary to do so_. I understand that not everyone will want to take the time/have the time to go back and read those scenes, so please don't just stop reading because of that. Some interactions or things might not make _quite_ as much sense as they would if the edited scenes had been read as well, but the story should be perfectly understandable. _

_Also, these edits were made on 1/8/12, a few minutes before I updated the story with this chapter [C20]. If you just started reading JYAM after this update, you will have already read the edits and this does not apply to you. The only people affected by these edits are people who have read up to C19 and have been waiting for C20 to be updated. For everyone who fits in that category I apologize; making those edits to previous chapters was not a decision that I made lightly, but for the sake of the story I felt it had to be done._

_This is a list of edits and how to find them using the find function (Ctrl F, type in the word[s] exactly as they are written to find the edited scenes). If you don't want/need to go back and read them, feel free to scroll on down past the list and on to the chapter._

**Chapter 3  
**- Oh, (continues through end of Sorting Hat's line)  
**Chapter 13  
**- Ginny was i (continues until Ginny wakes up in the compartment)  
- As it t (continues until end of scene [ooo])  
-(Last line of chapter)  
**Chapter 14  
**- Ginny's b (continues until end of scene [ooo])  
-With what h (continues until end of scene [ooo])  
**Chapter 15  
**-(Deleted a Riddle/Ginny scene)  
-been weeks (continues until end of scene [ooo])  
**Chapter 18  
**-As Ginny h (continues through end of scene and into next scene ["Ginny's eyes snapped open"], stops at the end of that scene)  
**Chapter 19  
**- notwithstanding (continues until end of scene [ooo])

_…And that's it. Any questions, comments, want to see the old chapter, etc., don't hesitate to PM or say something in your review (I do my best to respond to them). _

_On to the chapter. Enjoy._

xxxxx

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Chapter Twenty: Never the Same Again**

ooo

"Ginny!"

Ginny did not respond to Harry's call, leaving him standing in the middle of the clearing as she vanished into the brush, trying and failing to figure out what had just happened. A few seconds later Harry saw her shooting away on a broom, full speed. For some reason that sight acted like a bucket of ice water to the face and Harry sat down, the reality of what had just happened hitting him.

Ginny had just kissed him. And he had returned it. He had no doubt about that; he could still smell her hair, feel her arm on his neck, taste her lips. That was for sure. But why?

His confusion didn't stem from the kind that had plagued him during the past school year. He now knew how he felt about her. But she had been sending mixed messages, shying away from the kind of contact he had enjoyed at the start of their time together this summer; this was the very last thing that he had expected her to do. And then she had taken off without even bothering to bring her pack with her.

Harry sighed and sat down. One part of him felt jubilant, but the rest of his mood was dark. He didn't want Ginny to run away from him, especially now. But perhaps Ginny had only temporarily freaked out. Maybe when he caught up to her it would all be alright.

Harry stood up, turned around in the direction of the remaining broom — and froze. Standing right in front of him, slowly grazing on grass and not paying a whiff of attention to Harry, was a Unicorn.

Because he was still in shock from Ginny the appearance of the Unicorn did not seem all that strange. Not taking his eyes off of it Harry took a camera out of the pack at his feet and snapped a shot of the animal. If it heard the _click_ of the shutter it gave no notice, and Harry replaced the camera in the pack. After half a minute the Unicorn walked away, leaving Harry to deal with both backpacks: slinging one over his shoulder he grabbed the other one by the straps, and marched over to where his broom sat.

Where his _old_ broom sat. Ginny had taken his faster Firebolt and left her Nimbus for him. Shrugging, Harry climbed onto the broom, carefully placing the second pack in front of him. The Nimbus felt familiar and was easy to ride, and he lost no time in making for the house. With any luck this could still turn out to be a good day.

ooo

When Harry landed at Sirius' house he found that it was completely empty. Ginny hadn't come back, Ron and Hermione were still gone and Sirius was somewhere else on business. Walking up the small tower Harry leaned against a wall and waited for someone to return.

A broom appeared in the distance and for a second Harry thought it was Ginny, but as it got closer he saw that there were two people on it. Still, even if Ron and Hermione weren't who Harry had been hoping for it would be nice to have some company. He met them in the kitchen; Ron was walking around a counter, looking for something to eat, and Hermione was unpacking their backpacks. Harry was only vaguely aware of Hermione greeting him, for his mind had fixated on one subject.

Ron. How would he react? Harry knew that Ron thought of Ginny as his little sister, and was pretty sure that his friend was under the impression that Harry felt the same way. Harry wasn't looking forward to that particular conversation.

"So," Hermione said, and he realized that she was talking to him. "I don't suppose you found any mystical beasts today."

It was clear from Hermione's tone that she was getting bored with the search.

Harry was about to say that he hadn't, but then he suddenly remembering that he _had_ seen one. "I saw one," he stated.

Hermione froze, her mouth open. "What?" she said slowly, sounding suspicious.

"I saw a Unicorn," Harry elaborated. "It was right after Ginny —"

Harry stopped mid-sentence, barely avoiding mentioning what had eclipsed the memory of the Unicorn. "Right after Ginny decided she needed to take a break," Harry continued, trying to integrate the lie into his story. "I took a photo of it," he added as Hermione grew more and more skeptical. "It's in my backpack."

Hermione crossed the room and crouched down next to the nearest pack. Unzipping it she reached inside and extracted out a camera; setting it on a table she pulled out her wand and carefully tapped it once on its side.

Nothing happened.

"Well?" Harry said expectantly. "When're you going to get the picture?"

"I'm not," Hermione said crossly. "You haven't taken any pictures on this camera, Harry. And yes, I'm sure," she finished as Harry opened his mouth to protest.

It was clear that Hermione thought that Harry had been playing a joke on her, and that made her angry enough to forget to ask about Ginny's whereabouts. Harry was grateful for this because it gave him some time to think. He was sure that he had heard the _click _of the camera taking a photo, so the theory that he had meant to take a picture but not hit the button was out of the question.

If there weren't any pictures then that meant that the scene with the Unicorn had never happened. And if that had never happened, had Ginny ever kissed him?

ooo

By the end of dinner Harry knew that, while he may have imagined the Unicorn, he hadn't imagined the event preceding it. Sirius had arrived back at around six o'clock with dinner, and Ginny just half an hour later. It wasn't that Ginny had been gone so long that was bothering Harry, but how she was acting now that she was back.

Ginny was avoiding him, plain and simple. At dinner she sat as far away from Harry as possible and didn't make any eye contact for more than half a second, and afterwards she headed up to bed unusually early. Harry had a feeling that he was not the only one who had noticed Ginny's strange behavior; Sirius had been giving him odd looks all night.

Harry was ready to go to bed at the same time as Ron and Hermione, but as he sat up he felt Sirius' hand on his arm. Sitting back down, he watched his other two friends head upstairs: they vanished from sight and Sirius sat down in a chair opposite Harry.

"You're like a son to me, Harry," Sirius started, his voice soft. "And Molly made me promise that I would look after her kids. So that's why you're sitting in this chair until you tell me _exactly_ what happened."

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it. It didn't feel all that easy to talk about it to Sirius, even though they were close. It was private, something that felt more than just awkward to talk about.

"Did you do something to her, or did she do something to you?" Sirius prompted, scrutinizing Harry. "Talk to me, or we sit here all night."

"I'm not sure what happened," Harry said honestly, giving in. "Ginny's been acting weird lately, and today, she, well, she kissed me. And then she ran away."

The words didn't come out easy, and Harry couldn't meet Sirius' eyes. When he did look at his godfather he saw that Sirius was on the verge of speaking.

"Ginny," Sirius said slowly, picking his words, "is a complicated person, Harry. I don't know the extent of what you know about her, but I know that you're at least aware that she's had a troubled past. It's possible that you reminded her of that. Maybe she just wasn't ready."

Harry shook his head, once again wondering just what exactly Sirius knew. "No," Harry said. By focusing hard on his memory of that moment, on Ginny, Harry was pretty sure he had the answer. "She started it, and then she realized that she couldn't handle it. I saw it in her eyes."

Sirius was silent for a moment, and then rose; walking over to Harry he patted him on the shoulder. "She'll come around," Sirius said confidently. "Just watch."

ooo

Ginny spent the time between running from Harry and returning for dinner flying on Harry's Firebolt. She didn't have any particular destination in mind and was just flying to clear her head, to figure out what to do.

When she got back she would talk to Harry. Maybe it would just be as simple as that. Perhaps she hadn't made the giant mistake that she had feared.

But things never seemed to be quite so nice and simple for Ginny. She returned late in the day and when she landed she found herself unable to talk to Harry. No matter how hard she tried she was unable to find the courage to talk to him; oddly enough, it had been almost easier to deal with her feelings towards him before they had been exposed. The evening started to feel very uncomfortable, and Ginny made an excuse to slip up to bed early.

Perhaps, after the day's events, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to Ginny to find herself with Tom Riddle after she closed her eyes to sleep, but after over three weeks of dark dreams it was an abrupt change.

And then the strangest thing happened. Ginny had no recollection whatsoever of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. She remembered Riddle telling her that he planned to revive himself by sucking the life out of her, and then she had blacked out. The next thing she knew Harry was pressing the sword of Gryffindor into her hands and using it to kill the Basilisk. For the past year Ginny had been under the assumption that she had been unconscious the whole time.

_"Just let me go, Tom. Please."_

_"We both know that is not going to happen, Ginevra."_

It was as if Ginny was trying to watch a movie from behind a window that was so fogged-up that it was opaque, but for just one part of just one scene she was able to wipe some of the fog away and catch a glimpse.

_Ginny was standing in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle only a few steps away. The hopelessness of her situation had just begun to set in, and she was holding a hand over the cut on her arm._

_"You're not real," Ginny said, although from the waver in her voice it was clear that she lacked confidence in that statement. "Not real like a person."_

_"Of course I am," Riddle said, stepping a little closer to Ginny. "To you, anyway."_

_"That's not true," Ginny insisted. "You said that you needed my life —" _

_"Silly girl," Riddle said disdainfully, and Ginny's cheeks reddened from embarrassment. "I need your life so that I am strong enough to leave the Chamber and take what is rightfully mine. But even without fully killing you I will be strong enough to take on Potter. And _you_, my dear? It takes little effort when the other person wants you to be real."_

_"No," Ginny denied. "I don't want anything to do with you."_

_"Yes, you do," Riddle said, stepping even closer to Ginny so that there was hardly any room between them. "I never 'possessed' you, Ginevra. That requires force. I merely asked for control. You never put up resistance."_

_"You're wrong," Ginny said, but she didn't back away — maybe she couldn't. _

_"_No_," Riddle breathed into her ear. "You want this."_

And as suddenly as the piece from the missing part of her memory had come to her — or more likely been given to her by Riddle — Ginny was fully conscious of where she was again, and that she was sitting up in bed, Riddle standing a few feet away.

"You remember," Riddle said.

"I thought —" Ginny started, but then stopped. The revelation that she had been conscious during in the Chamber was as startling as whatever was happening with Riddle.

"Yes, I am very much aware of what you thought," Riddle said, finishing for her. "You actually believed that nothing happened down there."

Ginny felt her face coloring at the scorn in his voice, and once again wondered why she was placing stock in what Riddle's opinions.

"You're back," Ginny said, and while she intended it as a statement she was horrified to hear a note of relief in her voice. "Why did you do all that?"

"For nearly a year now I have wondered about you," Riddle said, not directly addressing Ginny's question. "You have disappointed me at nearly every turn. You faint at a critical moment when a Dementor nears, and your reaction when I laid a finger on you proved you just a little girl.

"And yet…" he said, his eyes locked onto Ginny. "Perhaps you may still be what I had hoped back in the Chamber."

"What made you change your mind?" Ginny asked, having to push past a lump in her throat. The intensity of his stare was making it hard to talk.

"Why did I give you those dreams?" Riddle asked.

Her mouth dry, Ginny struggled to find the right words. "To punish me. No," she said quickly, as Riddle's face started to take on a look of disdain, "no, to test me.

Riddle didn't smile. "And did you pass?"

"How am I supposed to —" Ginny started to say, and then stopped.

"We both know the answer," Riddle said. "I just want to hear you say it."

"Yes," Ginny said, having to force the words out.

"And why?" Riddle pressed.

"Because," Ginny said, the words sticking in her throat. "Because some part of me liked parts of them. The power."

"You're lying," Riddle said coldly.

"No —" Ginny started, but Riddle cut across her.

"Not to _me_, Ginevra. You cannot do that. You're lying to yourself. Again," he said forcefully. "The truth."

"Because I enjoyed it," Ginny said softly, so softly that she was hoping that Riddle wouldn't hear it. "The hurting and killing. A part of me enjoyed it."

"No," Riddle said, and took a step forward. There was still a gap between them, and the movement was more symbolic than an attempt to get closer. "It wasn't just a small part of you that enjoyed it. No, my dear Ginevra, there is only a small part of you that _doesn't_. But the life you have led encouraged that part to take over, and it wasn't until you started writing in my diary that your true self was finally let free. And then, after Potter destroyed the diary, I saw that you had fooled yourself into thinking that you are someone else, someone more…pure. You are not as innocent as you think, Ginevra. And now — now you are ready to face the truth."

Everything he said was a lie. Ginny had decided that long ago, that if Riddle said something it wasn't true.

But what if it was?

"Come," Riddle said, and he turned away from her; with a few long strides across the room he reached the door that had remained closed since this had all started. Riddle turned the knob, and opened the door.

Ginny had been expecting something dramatic, a burst of light, a loud noise, _something_.

But there was just silence. Nothing seemed to be behind the door. It was not pitch black, but just _nothing_, as if no light entered it, and no light escaped. Riddle stepped through the door — and disappeared.

Ginny thought of slamming the door shut. It had no lock, but this wasn't an ordinary door. Perhaps if she shut it Riddle couldn't come back out; she certainly shouldn't _follow_ him inside.

But she did. Ginny stepped through the threshold, into what lay beyond, and the door closed behind her. Ginny stopped, her breath caught in her throat, for she knew where she was.

"Is it the same as you remember?"

Riddle spoke to her from a distance, already having crossed the walkway surrounded by the fowl waters, at the very back of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Yes," Ginny said, and cautiously stepped forward, expecting…she didn't know what. The Basilisk to rear out of the waters and grab her, the stone to crumble underneath her feet, or some other misfortune. But all that happened was that her bare foot made contact with the cold stone, causing Ginny to shiver. She hadn't realized that she wasn't wearing shoes, just what she had put on when she went to bed, and the stone was as cold as ice.

"You can walk over here," Riddle said, sounding annoyed. "There's no Basilisk here…and even if there was, you should know better than fear it grabbing you off the path. Or don't you remember?"

Riddle was right: where the remains of the Basilisk should have rested there was nothing. In retrospect Ginny felt silly for expecting the giant serpent to attack her.

"We're not in the Chamber, are we?" Ginny said, making her way across, making her way to Riddle. "Just like we weren't in my room."

"Of course we're not."

"Is this — is this your mind, Tom?" Ginny said haltingly.

The stare that Riddle fixed Ginny with was so intense that she stopped walking, still a dozen feet away from the end of the walk. "Do you _really_ think," he said, his voice full of contempt, "do you actually believe that I would show _you_ something that important?"

Ginny averted her eyes, his words stinging. She knew that his opinion shouldn't matter, shouldn't mean anything at all.

It meant everything. Ginny was a world away from cold, analytical logic and she was now, more than ever, in Riddle's domain, his kingdom.

"I thought," Ginny said, trying to collect herself, "that since the door led here…"

She trailed off, and the next thing she was aware of Riddle had changed position, quickly striding over to her. They were now both on the narrow walk, mere feet apart. Ginny was small, but even so there was hardly room for her.

"Did you believe," he whispered, mouth next to her ear, "that I would show that to you? A blood-traitor?"

Ginny had never been ashamed of her "blood status". In fact, she had been proud of it. She had always thought that it was a mark of distinction, a slight against those who cared about such a thing, taking pride in her family's relations with Muggle-borns, and their cordial view on Muggles. But right there, right then, just for that one moment, one situation, she wished that she could be called a pureblood, not be the subject of Riddle's awful scorn.

"Is that all I am to you, Tom?" Ginny whispered back, her heart beating fast. "A blood-traitor? If that's all I am, why did you bring me here?"

"But," he said, not seeming to have heard her, "you _are_ also a pureblood, my dear. Perhaps you can still overcome the lies they fed you."

Ginny tried to take a step back, but the narrowness of the path prevented it. "You don't get it, do you, Tom?" Ginny said, wishing she was further away. "You're the one feeding me lies. And I don't want to be down here. I don't want to be anywhere near you."

Riddle suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away, and such was Ginny's surprise that she only just managed to not fall into the waters.

"I grow _sick_ of this," Riddle hissed, and there was real anger in his voice now. "Listening to your delusions. Apparently you are not as ready as I thought. Argue with yourself on your own time and return when you are ready."

Ginny barely managed to stifle a disbelieving laugh. "You really think I'm going to _choose_ to come back here?"

"I will be waiting," Riddle said, ignoring her, and whipped around. Ginny knew then that he was about to end it, that she was about to wake up, and she still had questions —

"Stop!" Ginny yelled, more forcefully then she had intended to.

Riddle slowly turned around, and there was danger in his eyes. "You presume to tell me what to do?" he said in a low, dangerous voice, and Ginny could feel his anger.

"No," Ginny said quickly, "I just need to know about Harry. Why you were telling me in those dreams not to have anything to do with him, why you haven't said a word about that all night even though I broke that."

"It is unbelievably tiresome to watch two teenagers dancing around each other," Riddle said. "It is obvious to any observer that you can't be kept apart forever."

"I don't understand," Ginny said.

"You needed to learn a lesson, Ginevra," Riddle said. "There is no such thing as love. No ultimate power that trumps all — _love_. It does not exist, my dear. And you proved it. Choosing self preservation over Harry Potter — Slytherin had no idea what they lost when you insisted that the Sorting Hat chose the life of a Gryffindor for you. You want Harry Potter? There is desire, need, power. You desire him. You need me. Which one of us has the power?"

Ginny looked him in the eyes, and she wasn't sure what she saw. "He beat you," Ginny said softly.

Whatever reaction Ginny had expected, she did not get. Riddle's eyes narrowed, but he did not react with violence, did not yell at her.

"No," he said slowly. "He did not. If Potter had _any_ idea of what a favor he did for me with one slice of a sword, he would have left you to die."

"And what favor was that?" Ginny asked, both fearing what might be said and in breathless anticipation of it.

Riddle did not answer, but instead stepped forward again so that he was close to Ginny once more, too close. He was taller than her, and Ginny had to look up to see his face. And then somehow his mouth was on hers, and it was nothing like what had happened with Harry. His lips were ice cold, and through them Ginny could feel his intentions as plainly as if they were written on the walls of the Chamber. He did not care for her. He would use her, and when he was done cast her aside, dead. Riddle was the Basilisk, and she was tasting its poison, the sweet poison that carried the sure knowledge of what was to come if she did not run away.

And yet, from a primal urge, from a natural reaction, from something else that she didn't want to think of, Ginny felt herself lightly kissing back, needing more of the sweet taste, the deadly taste, not caring —

— And Riddle stepped back leaving Ginny standing there, head spinning.

"I will be here when you are ready," Riddle said.

And Ginny's eyes flew open. She was in her room at Sirius' house. It was a small room, but Ginny liked that — she suspected that Sirius had checked with her parents about her preferences before having it built. Next to her bed was a nightstand with a lamp on it; Ginny pulled a chain and a small flame magically ignited, softly illuminating the room.

Ginny just lay there for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what had happened. It was easier to think, to reason, now, but she wasn't making much headway sorting things out. Running her hand through her long hair in frustration, toying with the strands, she opened up the top drawer on the nightstand and rummaged through it until she had found a piece of parchment, a quill and a small bottle of ink. Taking a deep breath Ginny dipped the tip of the quill in the ink and started to write. This was a strategy she had stumbled upon years ago, writing out her problems if she was too upset or confused to sort them out in her head.

_Tom,_

_I know what you are trying to do to me. And when I'm in the place that looks like my room or the Chamber with you, I can't think straight. And you know that, Tom, and you take advantage of it, making me doubt myself. I hate you. I don't care if there's some part of me that is what you say. There's a part of that in everyone, Tom. It doesn't make me like you. You're just trying to manipulate me. Everything you say is a lie, and I don't believe you when you say that Harry didn't beat you. He did, and you just don't want to admit that. And I'm not yours._

Ginny felt her left hand slip below her waist, feeling the scars. Putting the ink and quill back in the drawer Ginny took the piece of parchment and held it to the flame of the lamp, the edge darkening until it caught on fire. Ginny dropped the letter into her metal trash bin and watched it burn. Even if there had been some address to send it to it wouldn't have been necessary. Riddle knew what it said.

The fire consumed the letter, and as the parchment turned to ashes Ginny shut off the lamp and lay back down in her bed. She quickly fell asleep, and dreamt no dreams.

The first thing that Ginny noticed upon waiting was that there was a folded piece of parchment lying on the sheets covering her. After Ginny managed to gain her bearings and rub some of the sleep out of her eyes she picked it up, curious who would have dropped off a letter when she was sleeping.

Unfolding it she immediately saw that it was short — just two brief sentences. And it was in her handwriting.

_No, Ginevra. You _are_ mine._

The two 'i's were dotted with hearts. Ginny had not done that since her first year, when she had been writing in Riddle's diary.

"Go to hell, Tom," Ginny whispered, and closed her eyes. She should have known by now that it wasn't possible to win an argument with Tom Riddle.

ooo

_"She's dead, Potter! You can't —"_

It was as if someone was slowly doling out pieces of Harry's dream to him, and it was driving him nuts. Weeks upon weeks had gone by, and he would occasionally have the dream, once a week, twice a week, or maybe every other week. All the same — until one day, when he would get one more bit of information. He had gone to sleep hoping that Ginny would be different in the morning and had woken up with a disturbing new part of the reoccurring dream. Everything was the same, except he had heard one more word that the mysterious woman was yelling at him.

She's dead.

_She_'s dead.

Who was "she"? Hermione? Ginny? Someone who wasn't one of his friends? Someone he didn't even know yet?

Assuming the dream had any bearing on real life, of course. It wasn't how Harry had hoped to start the day, though, and as he made his way down the twisting stairs to breakfast — pancakes, maybe the day was starting to look up — he kept a close eye out for Ginny. She must have gotten up early, because while Sirius and Hermione were only partially through their breakfast — Ron was nowhere to be found, most likely still sleeping — Ginny was just finishing up the last scraps of her syrup-soaked pancakes.

Harry had always prided himself on being a good friend to Ginny, and no matter what happened as a result of their kiss the day before he would like to think that he could always be a good friend. Part of what Sirius has said the previous night was true: Ginny most certainly was a complicated person, especially when you took into account the fact that she had a sadistic dark wizard trapped inside her head. This necessitated that he pay close attention to her, because said dark wizard had in the past done things to her. So when he caught the look in Ginny's eyes, he knew that something was not right.

The confused part of what he was seeing wasn't suspicious; Harry was feeling pretty confused himself at this point. But there was also a haunted look, something that deeply troubled her beyond the kiss by the river.

Harry sat down and served himself only a small amount of food, eating fast and managing to finish just as Ginny stood up to leave. Excusing himself from the table, Harry quickly walked after her and caught up with her after they had both crossed through an archway and into a different room.

"Ginny," Harry said, and she halted. "We need to talk."

Ginny turned around, and Harry saw what might have been a tear in her eye.

"I can't, Harry," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

And she turned around and continued walking, once again leaving Harry behind. After a moment he slowly walked over to a couch and sat down, his heart heavy. That hadn't exactly worked out like he had hoped.

ooo

The next six days passed quickly, with no improvement for Harry concerning Ginny's attitude; if anything it was worse than before. They still interacted, but Ginny didn't joke with him anymore, didn't start up conversations, do any of the thing she usually did with him.

And before he knew it Harry woke up to his fourteenth birthday, the house filled with friends. But the celebration, the presents, the cake, they were all dulled by Ginny.

If asked just a week ago Harry would have said that they would have stuck together during the whole party, Ginny rolling her eyes at Ron for trying to have a piece of cake before anyone even sat down, pretending to steal Harry's presents, generally having a good time. But it seemed as if Ginny was uncomfortable around Harry, and through the whole day they exchanged barely a dozen words.

It did not get any better from there and even Ron, the person who was most out of touch with other people's feelings that Harry knew, seemed to sense that something was off.

Weeks went by and Harry still wasn't able to get Ginny to have a conversation about what was going on with him. According to Hermione, Ginny had approached her and asked if they could change the combinations of who flew with whom. She didn't give an explanation, so now Harry was flying Hermione on what now seemed like completely irrelevant searches. At least it gave them some time to talk.

Ron and Hermione had gone long periods without speaking to each other due to rows over what in the end turned out to be silly things, and apparently that was all that Hermione thought was happening with Harry and Ginny: this told Harry that Ginny had not confided in Hermione.

Harry just wanted his friend back. He had managed to catch her alone several times, asking — at one point begging — just to be friends again. If what had happened in the clearing wasn't how Ginny wanted to relate to Harry, fine. He'd rather settle for just being friends then to barely have anything to do with her. But Ginny still seemed disturbed by something, and Harry wished he could just get her to tell him what it was, because then they could talk it out and work through it.

To make matters worse, Harry's scar was hurting. He couldn't make out anything clear, just bits and pieces, people whose faces he couldn't see properly, and on an occasion or two flashes of green light. The only good thing about the little visions that he had was that his reoccurring dream had ceased upon their commencing.

Never before had Harry truly appreciated having Hermione as a friend. He had been so obsessed with Ginny that he had almost discarded Ron and Hermione. But now, with Ginny almost out of the picture, they were what he had left and he had forgotten how good friends they were. Ron, however, was not the most sensitive of people when it came to issues such as Harry was facing. Hermione on the other hand felt like a sister. Even so it felt impossible to confide what had happened to her, although Harry suspected she could probably figure it out by herself.

"Are you going to tell me today?"

Harry was flying slower than usual on his Firebolt; Hermione had only put up with flying for the summer, and Harry respected that she wasn't a fan of racing around.

"No, I'm not," Harry said, gently gaining a little altitude. "And d'you mind telling me why you're on my side, considering I haven't told you anything, and neither has Ginny? How do you know I didn't do something to her?"

"Because I know you," Hermione answered simply. "If you had done something to hurt her, you would be acting guilty and she would be acting hurt and confused. Instead _you're_ acting hurt and confused, and Ginny's acting, well —"

"— Like I'm a complete stranger," Harry finished. "Well, you'll figure it out, I'm sure. You always do."

Having decided that his mind had dreamed up meeting the Unicorn, Harry regarded the flying as a time to talk to Hermione, not to try and find magical beasts. Shrugging, Harry swerved the broom to the right.

"Where are you going?" Hermione demanded, grabbing onto Harry to steady herself. "That'll take us off the map that Sirius gave us."

"Yep," Harry confirmed. "Might as well mix the daily routine up; we've only got a week until we go to the Cup."

Hermione hesitated, and Harry was reminded of how much he missed Ginny, who would have agreed in a second. "Okay," Hermione said finally, perhaps guessing Harry's thoughts.

They flew on for some time, Harry slowing to allow Hermione to see if they were off the map. Soon enough they were, and Harry gained altitude until he was right below the low, spotty cloud cover, surveying the new scenery. He thought that he saw a flash of light in a distance, far off of what the map said was Sirius' property. Harry was about to write it off as a figment of his imagination when Hermione spoke.

"Did you see that?" Hermione asked, pointing in the direction that Harry had seen the light from. As soon as she said that Harry saw another flash, and then a series of flashes.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, nodding his head. "Should we check it out?"

"Sure," Hermione said after a second, and once again Harry was sure that she only agreed because it was what Ginny would have done. Harry accelerated, pushing the broom to its top speed, and had the breath choked out of him as Hermione grabbed him around the stomach, holding on in fear of her life. Harry slowed down as they approached, unable to believe what he was seeing.

In the middle of a large and open field stood what had to be a Chimera. A monstrous creature, it was perhaps as odd-looking as it was fearsome. A giant lion's head seemed to be mounted on the body of a goat, and a dragon tail replaced the goat's tail. Probably the size of the dragon that represented the third part of its body, the creature was belching fire. Harry remembered something that Ginny had said.

_"Sirius is a good bluffer, but he's got tiny wrinkles around his eyes that move when he's not being entirely truthful. I saw that when he was talking about the Chimera._

Sirius had said that the Chimera has been 'de-fanged, de-clawed and de-fired.' That must have been the part that he had been lying about.

And the Chimera, which most certainly had fangs, claws and fire, was attempting to use them all on a person. Harry was too far away to see who it was, but they were in danger. The wizard or witch was casting spell after spell, each one keeping the Chimera off-balance. It was a very impressive feat, but surely it could not be kept up forever.

Upon getting closer Harry could see that there was a chain around the Chimera's back left ankle, and the chain seemed to go into the ground: suddenly Harry understood the plight of the person battling the monster. The person could run away, and after a certain distance the Chimera would not be able to pursue. But the chain seemed very long and Harry suspected that if the person turned to run the Chimera would chase down and kill him — or her, Harry realized; it was too far away to determine the gender of the monster's victim.

"Hermione," Harry shouted, looping around and angling around for the back of the Chimera's head. "Do you know anything that can distract it?"

"Maybe," Hermione yelled back, drawing her wand.

Maybe would have to be good enough, and Harry swooped down at the Chimera. He couldn't hear Hermione over the roar of the wind, but jets of light shot out of her wand and hit the beast on the head. They seemed to do just about as much good as the other wizard's spells — Harry could see at this closer distance that it was a man — but it distracted the Chimera. It turned and spat fire at the Firebolt, but Harry was far enough away that he easily dodged it. He weaved around it for some time, Hermione hitting it with spell after spell as the man limped away, apparently unable to run.

Finally the Chimera seemed to tire out: it stopped chasing Harry, sat down on its haunches, and finally lay down. When he was satisfied that it was not a trick Harry looped around and dashed towards the wizard, who's pace had steadily been slowing. Setting down a few dozen feet from the man, Harry hopped off the broom.

"Are you okay?" he asked loudly, slowly advancing with his wand in hand; Harry had no idea who this person was, and if they were dangerous or not.

His concerns proved unfounded, and as he got closer Harry nearly dropped his wand as he hurried over to the man who was swaying on his feet.

"Professor Lupin!"

Harry reached Lupin just as he collapsed on the ground. Rushing over and bending down over Lupin, he saw that his former teacher was badly wounded. Oddly enough only a few injuries seemed to be from the Chimera. Some ragged tears in his clothes and skin, along with a scorch mark seemed to have been the work of the monster, but the rest of his body was covered with other wounds that looked too…neat. Slashes looked too straight, puncture wounds looked too round. Something else had happened to Lupin, and given the extent of it Harry was surprised that Lupin was alive, never mind with his eyes open.

"Harry?" Lupin said weakly, blinking.

"It's okay," Harry said, looking for Hermione. "We'll take you to St. Mungo's —"

Lupin grabbed Harry's face with surprising strength, and Harry was forced to look at him. "_No_," he said forcefully, but at this point his voice was just but a whisper. "Take me to Sirius," he said, and then uttered the one word that chilled Harry more than any other. "_Voldemort_."

ooo

"As you both know, I've been hunting Wormtail."

Lupin was lying on a couch in the living room. All that Sirius had done was to bandage a wound or two and give Lupin a couple of potions. They seemed to have given him coherence and the strength to talk, but he still needed medical attention badly. Despite this Lupin insisted on giving his story first, saying that it was far more important than his life.

"He hides well," Lupin went on, his face pale but his voice stronger, "but I know him. Without someone giving him food regularly Peter couldn't exist purely as a rat, so he had to appear as a human at times. It was a matter of finding the people who had been Confunded and had their memories Obliviated. But he never was too good at those spells, and I managed to track him…to Albania."

The room was completely silent. Lupin took a drink of water, cleared his throat, and went on.

"Wormtail found his master," Lupin said in disgust, "and I waited and watched. I never could tell quite how powerful Voldemort was, so it wasn't a simple matter of walking in and taking them both out. There was a snake, too, and I think it knew I was there. Right when I was deciding that I should go in and get them they Apperated away."

Lupin had to pause to catch his breath. It was just Lupin, Sirius and Harry in the room, and Harry felt lucky to be there; Sirius had decided at the last second that Harry should hear this.

"I didn't know exactly where they went," Lupin said, "but I overheard snippets. One was that Wormtail should slip into Azkaban, and something about a few Dementors. The last thing I heard before they left was the general location that they would be."

Sirius opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then shut it. Lupin went on, looking disgusted with himself.

"I was a fool," he said angrily. "By the end they knew I was watching them, and they set a trap. Voldemort knew that Wormtail couldn't kill me, so he had to wait until he had someone who could. They told me where they would be and I followed. Did the Ministry report anything about Azkaban?" Lupin added, looking at Sirius.

Sirius shook his head. "No."

"Well, there's been a breakout," Lupin said, his voice heavy. "Voldemort must have had enough pull to influence a few Dementors, and Wormtail could have easily slipped into the prison. They broke Bella out, Sirius."

Sirius rocked back into his chair as if he had been hit by a curse. "They broke Lestrange out?" he said, sounding horrified.

"Yes, they broke dear Bellatrix out of prison. And I fell right into their trap," Lupin said bitterly. "She was waiting for me — her skill hasn't atrophied at all — and nearly killed me. I escaped, Apparated here, walked into the edge of the anti-apperation zone and got ambushed by that Chimera."

"Sorry about that," Sirius said apologetically. "I agreed to keep it out there until the Tournament as a favor for Dumbledore. The kids weren't supposed to actually find it," he added with a glance in Harry's direction. "Anyway," he went on, "that's bad news if Bella is back."

"No, you haven't heard the bad news," Lupin said, and Sirius' head snapped around. "From the way they were talking they're about to bring him back. Maybe a month, maybe six months, no more than a year. Voldemort's not in his full body now, I saw what he is, he's something horrible; he's not mobile, and was relying heavily on Wormtail. But in less than a year he _will_ be back. And if he can break Azkaban's most dangerous prisoner out with only Wormtail for assistance…"

Lupin trailed off: Sirius shot to his feet and quickly strode over to the fireplace. He picked up a jar of what Harry recognized as Floo powder and strode over to the fireplace. He had gotten to the point of taking a pinch to throw into the fire when he stopped, looking frustrated.

"No, I can't leave you alone with just Harry," Sirius said as much to himself as to the werewolf. "Harry, come here."

Harry obediently got up and walked over to Sirius, who gave him the pinch of Floo powder.

"When you go into the fire, say 'Phoenix's Den'. It's a password," Sirius explained at the befuddled expression on Harry's face. "It will take you to a place that isn't normally available to the public Floo system. When you get there, tell Dumbledore _briefly_ what happened and let him know that Remus is injured."

"Dumbledore —" Harry started, but Sirius cut him off.

"_Go_, Harry," Sirius said forcefully. "We may not have much time."

Increasingly aware of the importance of the situation, Harry threw the pinch of powder into the flames, and quickly stepped into them. "Phoenix's Den," he said clearly, remembering the time he had mispronounced his destination and fearing where a bungling of this odd phrase could send him.

Unlike the last time when he had simply arrived at his destination, Harry felt a sort of soft, warm barrier between him and the other end which quickly gave way, offering little resistance. Before he knew it Harry was on the floor of the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts, standing in a fireplace that he hadn't noticed during any of the previous times he had been in the office. The room was empty, but not for long; as Harry was trying to stomp the ashes off of his shoes the door opened and Dumbledore strode in.

Harry had never really seen Dumbledore really surprised, but as the old wizard stopped in his tracks and blinked Harry had the distinct impression that the Headmaster was genuinely taken aback to see him there.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "What are you doing here?"

"Sirius sent me," Harry said, and he explained. Mindful of Sirius' instructions he just gave an outline of what had happened and described the severity of Lupin's wounds.

"And then Sirius sent me here," Harry finished. "Professor, what does 'Phoenix's Den' mean?"

"An inside joke," Dumbledore replied, striding over to the fire. "Now, Harry, if you would be kind enough to take me back to your godfather's house."

ooo

Harry was rather annoyed, although he wasn't sure if it was directed more at Dumbledore or at Sirius. When Dumbledore had arrived back at Sirius' he had said something to Harry's godfather and every since then Harry couldn't get a word out of Sirius about what was going on. Harry felt that he was entitled to know — along with Hermione he_ had_ been responsible for saving Lupin, after all.

The next week seemed to drag on, and it felt like an eternity before Harry was grabbing hold of the Portkey that would take them to the Quidditch World Cup. This time Harry managed to stay on his feet immediately after the Portkey, but as he offered a hand to Ron to keep his friend from falling Ron's weight dragged him down and Harry ended up back down on the ground again. This drew a snort of laughter from Hermione and, unexpectedly, Ginny. Harry quickly glanced in her direction, his spirits rising hopefully, but Ginny was already looking at the ground.

Harry spent the time leading up to the match wandering around, buying trinkets and having a good time. The next night they all headed for the stadium where the Cup was being held. Sirius had made use of his influence with Fudge and the result was that they were sitting in a raised box at the top of the stadium with some of the best seats available. Harry had just settled down between Ron and Hermione and taken out his Omnioculars when he spotted out of the corner of his eye a flash of pale-blond hair. Turing halfway around he saw Lucius Malfoy quickly striding towards the stairs that led to the ground, as if he had to be somewhere else very soon. Harry hadn't noticed the presence of the Malfoys, but it figured that they'd be able to get good seats.

Harry soon forgot all about Lucius as the match roared to a start. Chasers swirled about, Viktor Krum soared around, searching for the Snitch…it was by far better than any Quidditch match at Hogwarts.

When a loud and sudden _boom_ sounded, rocking the whole stadium, Harry at first assumed that it was part of the match; the team mascots had been fighting pretty spectacularly, after all. But then a second, louder noise that sounded like an explosion rang out, and as the announcer ceased to give his play-by-play commentary Harry realized that something was very, very wrong.

Several players from both teams were still struggling for control of the Quaffle, but as a third noise sounded Harry's eyes were completely drawn away from them. Almost directly across the field from Harry an entire section of the stadium was collapsing. Harry had his Omnioculars in hand; he brought them up to his face to take a closer look at what was going on — and quickly wrenched them away from his eyes in horror. There were people in the collapsing section, hundreds, maybe thousands, some falling many hundreds of feet.

"_Go!_" Harry heard Sirius shout, and along with Mr. Weasley his godfather started to forcefully remove those underage from their box, getting them out of the open. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were quickly shepherded out by Sirius, with Mr. Weasley leading them. When they had all stood up Harry had ended up the farthest from the stairs — the only exit — and so he was the last to leave. Sirius was in the process of reaching for Harry when one more explosion went off, only this one seemed to be on the underside of the box.

Harry was thrown to the floor, his ears ringing. With great effort he managed to get to his knees, and saw that the box had indeed taken some sort of hit. It had been blown off most of its supports, and was creaking ominously as if it was going to collapse and pitch Harry down to the ground, which was very far away.

The stairs were gone. A fifteen foot gap separated the box Harry was on from the walkway; Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that everyone else was standing there, but any relived feeling vanished as the box gave a loud groan and titled back a bit. It was going to fall. Harry scrambled to his feet and was trying to figure out what to do when his godfather called out to him.

"Harry!"

Sirius was standing at the edge of what used to be the stairs, wand in hand. Harry looked for some way to get across, but there was nothing.

"I can't get across!" Harry yelled back at Sirius.

"Jump!" Sirius shouted. "Jump for it before the whole thing falls!"

Harry knew that Sirius was right, but he wasn't sure if he could make the jump or not. But then metal gave way and the box angled back more, and suddenly it wasn't a choice. Harry took a running jump, vaulting off the edge just as the box fell away behind him. Now his momentum either carried him to the walkway…or Harry would fall to the ground and die.

Time seemed to slow down. Harry had taken a running start, but it hadn't been enough. Harry wasn't going to make it by far, and by the look in Sirius' eyes he could tell that he knew that as well.

Just as Harry was resigning himself to the fact that he would die he saw Sirius jump off too, right at him, wand in hand. They collided in midair, Sirius' arms wrapping around Harry so tightly that he couldn't move. Harry could see Sirius' mouth moving, forming words, but the wind prevented him from hearing them.

And then, incredibly, they seemed to be slowing down. The roar of the wind quieted and the pair hit the ground softly. Sirius stood up immediately but Harry remained on the ground, still processing the turn of events; a few seconds ago he had been many hundreds of feet up in the air and now he was on the very edge of the Quidditch field.

"Bloody anti-Apparition charms," Harry heard Sirius say. "Could have just Apparated to safety instead of trying to cast a Cushioning Charm while falling. Damn it. C'mon, Harry, get up."

Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him to his feet.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, out of breath. "And thanks," he added, remembering that Sirius had just risked his life for him.

"What's going on?" Sirius repeated, staring at the pile of rubble and bodies that lay across the field. "I hope that I'm wrong about what's going on, Harry. I hope that…"

Sirius trailed off. Around twenty figures were entering through a path in the debris. Although they were far away Harry could tell that they were wearing black cloaks, and thought that he could make out silver masks on their faces.

"Shit," Sirius swore, and looked immediately back down at Harry. "Harry," he said, the tone of his voice conveying a sense of urgency, "Find a way back up there and tell Arthur to get this place swarming with Aurors _right now_."

Harry was bursting with questions, but from the way Sirius was talking there was no time to ask them. Sprinting as fast as he could Harry ran up flights of stairs, pushing past people trying to go the other way. A couple times he glanced back down at the field — which had been abandoned by the players — and saw Sirius approaching the masked people; other figures were making their way towards the group from the edges of the stadium to stand with Sirius against the black-robed figures. The next couple times Harry looked down all he could see were flashes of light, a sure sign that there was a duel going on.

Harry doubled his pace. Soon enough he reached the walkway where Sirius had one stood: no one had moved.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry panted, out of breath. "Sirius said that he needed Aurors —"

"They're on their way," Mr. Weasley said tersely. "Right now we're safest up here."

"I still don't get that," Ron said, mirroring Harry's thoughts. "They've already hit up here once."

"And now security is trying to contain them until the Aurors arrive," Mr. Weasley explained. "They're too busy to do that again."

"Who are these people?" Harry asked, but Mr. Weasley did not answer; he was, instead, looking at the center of the Quidditch field. Looking around, Harry found a pair of Omnioculars —most likely Ron's — on the floor. Picking them up he aimed them at the spot where the fight had been taking place, hoping to find Sirius standing.

Harry's heart sank. While he could not see well enough to tell if Sirius was lying on the ground there, the only ones standing were the people with the black robes. As Harry watched the mysterious attackers started to march out the way they came, a pair of them using their wands to drag along four of their own casualties. One person who had no mask and appeared to be a woman directed her wand in the air: a bolt of light shot out of it and into the sky, where it burst into a chilling symbol. Perfectly visible against the black sky a green skull hung, a snake winding in and out of the grinning mouth.

"The Dark Mark," Mr. Weasley said ominously. "You asked who those people are? They're Death Eaters, Harry."

Harry didn't know who Death Eaters were, but he noticed that out of the tens of thousands of witches and wizards that were still in the stadium, not one tried to stop them from leaving.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said slowly. "Do they have something to do with Vol —"

"Later," Mr. Weasley said sharply, and turned to the stairs that led to the ground. "Fred, George, get these four somewhere safe. I need to see what's going on down there."

Mr. Weasley hurried down the stairs, leaving the twins in command.

"Did he really just leave us in charge?" Fred said, looking at George.

"I believe he did," George said, nodding. "Don't know what's gotten into — hey, Harry!"

Harry had taken advantage of Fred and George's surprise to slip past them and sprint down the stairs after Mr. Weasley. Sirius was down there somewhere, maybe dead. He had to find him.

It seemed to take forever to get to the center of the field where the mass of bodies lay. A few dozen witches and wizards surrounded the area, but not so tightly that Harry couldn't get in. Upon seeing the aftermath he halted, momentarily forgetting about his search for Sirius.

Bodies lay strewn across the middle of the field, both security guards and the occasional brave witch or wizard who had hurried out to help. Some were unmoving, dead, their limbs splayed out around them. A few were still alive and being treated as well as could be by the first responders. Harry had never seen a dead person before, and it was only with the knowledge that Sirius could be dying out there that he managed to push on.

Harry found Sirius at the center of what had been the fight. For one horrible moment he thought that Sirius was dead, but upon seeing Harry his godfather sat up a bit, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice hoarse. "What're you doing down here?"

"Looking for you," Harry answered, keeling next to Sirius. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Sirius said unconvincingly. He certainly did not look fine: he was covered in cuts, bruises and a few burns.

"Mr. Weasley said that those people were Death Eaters," Harry said, wanting to keep Sirius engaged in conversation for fear that he might drift off and not come back.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius said, spitting some blood onto the grass. "That they were."

"How d'you know that?" Harry asked.

"Four ways," Sirius said, sounding a little stronger. "First off, they were wearing the robes and masks that Death Eaters wear. Second, that had to be hundreds of people that they killed just to make a grand entrance. Third…look up."

Harry glanced to the sky where the snake was winding in and out of the grinning skull. "That's the Dark Mark," Harry said, remembering Mr. Weasley's comment.

"Cast by Death Eaters when they make a kill," Sirius confirmed. "And only Death Eaters know how to cast it. I haven't seen that in a long time, Harry. You have no idea, no _possible_ idea of what fear it used to inspire. If you saw it hanging over a house you knew the occupants were dead."

Sirius' tone had gone even darker than when he had started to talk about the Death Eaters, and it sounded as if he was talking from personal experience.

"You said that there was a fourth way," Harry said as Sirius' eyes started to become unfocused.

"Right," Sirius said, regaining his clear head. "One of them didn't bother to wear a mask. You see, most of the people in masks were Death Eaters who managed to escape justice after Voldemort fell. It's easy enough to figure out who they are — Lucius Malfoy was one of them, that's why they hit our box in particular — but impossible to prove it. You can bet you arse that each one of them will have a credible alibi."

Sirius blinked a few times, and then looked directly at Harry.

"But one of them _was_ convicted," Sirius said, "and she was sent to Azkaban. She rotted there as long as I did, and was still there until she was broken out this summer. Ah, Bellatrix."

The name seemed familiar, and suddenly Harry remembered Lupin saying that the person who had injured him had been Bellatrix Lestrange, who had just been broken out of prison.

"The same person who attacked Lupin?" Harry asked.

"The same," Sirius confirmed. "Nasty piece of work, Bellatrix. Voldemort's most capable and loyal servant, and his most insane. Back during the war I thought that I'd rather be captured by Voldemort then by Bellatrix. Voldemort did torture people, yes, but not with the _glee_ that Bellatrix took to it. And she had special reason to hate me too. To hate her cousin."

"She's your cousin?" Harry said in disbelief, looking at Sirius' battered body and thinking of Lupin in similar condition.

"Don't be so surprised," Sirius said with a small smile. "Pretty much all Purebloods are related to each other one way or another."

Sirius sighed, and for a moment he looked again like the man who had just escaped from Azkaban: tired, with little hope.

"You have to be careful, Harry," Sirius said in a whisper as Healers started to arrive. "I have a feeling that things are going to get a lot worse before they get any better."

ooo

"Eight hundred and ninety-two confirmed dead," Lupin recited slowly, carefully controlling the anger that was clearly audible in his voice. The figure came out of the newspaper in his hands, but he had read it enough times that he did not need to look at the words. "Two thousand and thirty-five injured, approximately twelve hundred unaccounted for. They're still recovering bodies from underneath the wreckage of that section of stands, and the death toll is expected to go up past a thousand. All attempts to look into the whereabouts of suspected former Death Eaters more thoroughly than just a cursory check into their whereabouts has been stonewalled by Lucius Malfoy via Fudge, shouting about slandering of name and discrimination."

"I want Lucius _dead_," Sirius said harshly. The private room at St. Mungo's was the one that Lupin had been occupying until recently, and now Sirius was the one who was stuck in it; at the moment the two old friends were the only people in the room. It had been a full day since the Cup, and while he was still confined to his bed Sirius was not in critical condition anymore.

"That's not going to happen," Lupin advised. "You can't stick anything on him, not yet."

Sirius slammed a fist down on the side of his bed. "Damn it, Remus, I almost died. _Harry_ almost died. They knew _exactly _where we were, and he was up there with us. But forget about us. A _thousand_ dead? You weren't there, you didn't see them fall to their deaths, or be crushed under hundreds of tons of rubble. They need to pay —"

"— I know, I know," Lupin interrupted. "Malfoy was either the person who took the shot at you or he told the person who did where to aim. But your influence over Fudge is waning, and Malfoy has his old grip over the Minister again. No charges can be brought against him."

"There are other ways to get at him," Sirius said, and in his voice Lupin heard a frustration that he shared.

"They're expecting us to go after Malfoy," Lupin reasoned. "It's what they would do. But this is beyond us now, Sirius. Two months ago Voldemort only had Wormtail to look after him and now he had near two-dozen followers? His forces are growing exponentially."

Lupin was uneasy about recent events and yes, even a little frightened. Despite Bellatrix having been imprisoned for over thirteen years she had utterly defeated Lupin; the werewolf had just barely managed to escape with his life. Sirius had fared no better that Lupin, hardly landing a single hit on his cousin.

Perhaps some of Lupin's fear had bled into his voice, or maybe Sirius had just known him long enough to tell when he was uneasy. Sirius managed a smile, and sat up a little straighter in his bed.

"It won't be like last time," Sirius said reassuringly, although Lupin detected a lack of complete confidence in his voice. "There won't be another war."

"Won't there?" Lupin challenged, glad that the kids were not in the room. "He's gaining Death Eaters by the day, Bellatrix is back and somehow even more powerful than before — what makes you so confident?"

"Dumbledore came to see me earlier today," Sirius said, giving the last answer that Lupin had expected to hear. "He says that some things don't add up."

Lupin found a chair and sat down in it. "Such as?"

"Bodies and witnesses, for starters," Sirius said. "_Someone_ left a trail of dead bodies on their way to the stadium, most of them looking as if they had died in pain."

"Bellatrix," Lupin guessed.

"Most likely. Can't know for sure, because everyone who would have seen her approach the stadium is dead. Not so for the other Death Eaters. Only one dead."

This got Lupin's attention. He had never heard of Death Eaters being squeamish, but he was quite sure that the people in robes and masks were indeed the genuine article.

"Anyone see anything helpful?" Lupin asked hopefully; the situation desperately needed a little light shed upon it.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, actually. A witch was hiding behind a ruined tent, and she saw and heard a group of Death Eaters meet up with Bellatrix."

"They came in two groups?" Lupin said, surprised.

"Not just that," Sirius said, running a hand through his hair. "Dumbledore got permission to view the memory of the witness, so this is coming from him. It appeared that the group of Death Eaters was rather surprised to see Bellatrix, and they started to argue about plans. Bella rectified that by hittubg one of them with the Cruciatus, and after that they followed her lead. In addition," Sirius added, looking straight into Lupin's eyes, "another person saw how the stands were brought down. It was just Bellatrix; none of the other Death Eaters cast a single spell."

"That…doesn't make sense," Lupin admitted, thinking hard. "It sounds almost like they had two different agendas, and Bellatrix forced them to follow hers."

"Dumbledore thinks that is exactly what happened," Sirius said. "His conclusion is that the main group of Death Eaters wasn't planning on Bellatrix being there and she bullied them into changing plans — mass murder might not have been their original goal. To top it off someone else saw them Apparating away: there were a bunch of wands pointed at each other, Bella yelling for them to come with her…and being completely ignored."

"So maybe Voldemort _hasn't_ gained a score more supporters," Lupin mused, his thought process now in line with Sirius'. "It started out as just some ex-Death Eaters who wanted to have a bit of fun, but their plan got forcibly hijacked. And when it came time to leave, Bellatrix tried to get them to return to her master…"

"…But they didn't," Sirius finished. "No doubt they thought she was just crazy — not an unreasonable assumption in her case — Voldemort was still dead, and if they didn't get somewhere else real fast then their stories might have a few holes."

Lupin was silent for a moment. "Did Dumbledore say anything about Bellatrix?" he said finally. "She brought down that whole section of stands by herself, and still had enough in her to wipe the floor with anyone who tried to stop her. I remember Bellatrix as being dangerous, but not this dangerous."

"He had a theory, and I don't like it one bit," Sirius said darkly. "Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort is messing around with dark magic, old dark magic, to get his body back — and he thinks that Bella is directly involved in that process. You know what they say about those old spells, especially the dark ones. It either kills you —"

"— Or it makes it so that no one else can, yes," Lupin finished. "But I never thought that even Bellatrix was crazy enough to dabble in the sort of things we're talking about."

"If it was the way to bring him back, I'm sure she would," Sirius said ominously.

The room was silent for a while, both men brooding. Despite Sirius' assurances that there would be no war Lupin felt that given the current situation it was indeed a likely possibility, and a certainty if Voldemort regained his body. The sort of magic which Voldemort and Bellatrix were reportedly using was finicky and dangerous enough that it was unwise for even the most skilled witch or wizard to use — although either of them would more than qualify as a skilled witch or wizard. There was a possibility it could backfire, that whatever they were doing to return Voldemort to full body would kill him…but if not they were in for some serious trouble, and the aide of the Ministry was not something to be counted on.

"I don't think it's time to call the Order back together," Lupin said, breaking the silence. "But I think it couldn't hurt to send a few owls around. We need to find out where Voldemort moved his base of operations to, and if he's recruiting. And Sirius, have someone keep an eye on Harry. Voldemort's going to go after him — he doesn't just see him as a threat. It's personal."

"Mad-Eye is taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," Sirius said. "He's specially suited for keeping an 'eye' on people. Besides that there will be extra security for the Tournament; I hesitate to call any building impenetrable when we're talking about Voldemort, but Hogwarts will be about as safe as it gets. "

"I'm relieved to hear that the new rules make it so that Harry's too young to attend," Lupin said. "He'd be an easy target in one of those challenges."

"I'll talk to him before hand, anyway, to make sure he doesn't try and cheat his way in," Sirius said, nodding. "Dumbledore's going to handle the anti-cheating himself, so there's no way at all Harry will be picked out of that cup. Poor kid."

"He's still having issues with Ginny?" Lupin said.

Sirius sighed. "She's obviously torn up inside about something, and from the strength of her reaction I think it's more then what happened with Harry. But whatever it is it looks to me like she's now almost uncomfortable around him."

"Do you think it's possible that it brought back memories when she kissed him?" Lupin suggested.

"That's what I thought at first," Sirius said. "But if she had remembered some of what had happened then her reaction wouldn't be like this. I think it's _related_…but not that."

"If this doesn't stop soon, talk to her," Lupin advised. "Things are going to get worse, Sirius, I know they are. And none of us will make it through this if we can't rely on our friends."

ooo

Ginny lay in the empty living room in front of a fire that, thanks to magic, was roaring even though the last person besides her had gone to bed hours ago.

It had been nearly a month since she had last seen Tom Riddle, but that gave her little satisfaction…because, to her dismay, she found herself missing him. Not missing him as she missed spending time with Harry, not anything remotely like that, but in some weird way missing him nonetheless.

And Harry. She had hardly had any real interaction with him for that same period of time, and even if she hadn't been missing his company she would have still felt bad about how he seemed to be feeling about it. But she couldn't. Just couldn't. Every time she thought about talking to him, intended to walk up to him, she was reminded of what they had shared in the forest — and then that night. The way she had responded to Riddle, ways that she shouldn't have, ways that were wrong, it all reinforced her growing suspicion, her nagging uncertainty that maybe Riddle wasn't lying when he said that she was his. And if that was true then the last person she should be around was Harry Potter. It was for Harry's own good: if she was Riddle's the only thing she would end up doing would be breaking Harry's heart.

But deep down inside Ginny knew the truth even if she wanted to deny it. Tom Riddle made a great excuse, but he wasn't the problem. The problem was Ginny Weasley, who had started something she desperately wanted but wasn't fully prepared to handle. And she had run away. Was _still_ running.

And maybe she had already broken Harry's heart.

ooo

"You were given specific instructions."

Harry's voice was high, cold, and possessed an unnerving inhuman quality. He was in a small, darkly-lit room…but he wasn't Harry. He was small, something smaller than a man, something infinitely worse. Propped up in a chair he gazed upon a woman with heavy lidded eyes.

"My lord," the woman said, a mixture of admiration and what could have been fear — not for herself, but fear of disappointing — in her voice. "My lord, I did as you instructed —"

"Silence," Harry hissed, and the woman obeyed. "You have failed me, Bellatrix. I entrusted you to bring back more followers and to insure that Harry Potter would not be harmed. You tried to kill Harry Potter."

Bellatrix swallowed, looking stricken at the thought that she had disappointed him. "I wasn't trying to kill the boy," she said quickly. "Lucius said that Black would be up there —"

"And you knew very well that Harry Potter would be with him," Harry interrupted again. "If he had died, all would have been lost. Now it is time for my other, _loyal_, Death Eater to do what you could not. He will deliver me Harry Potter when the time is right. For now I have no need of you."

Bellatrix looked as if she had been cursed. "But my lord," she said frantically, "surely there is _something_ that I can do —"

"There is nothing," Harry said. "Nothing…at the moment. But once it comes time to kill Harry Potter — then I will have use again for you."

A relived and demented smile appeared on Bellatrix's face, and —

— Harry blinked. He was in his bed at Sirius' house, not the room he had been in a second ago. Because Sirius' condition was stable his godfather had insisted that Harry not spend his nights at the hospital and instead get some real sleep.

Not that he was very likely to fall back asleep, though. If that hadn't been a dream he had just been inside Voldemort's head, and that was enough to give him chills.

Harry though about telling Sirius about the dream, but then realized that he would have to go to St. Mungo's to do so. He could write a letter to Dumbledore, but what if it had been just a dream? With the Death Eater attack he was sure that the Headmaster was quite busy and wouldn't want to be bothered over a nightmare.

Sighing, Harry rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, and to his relief sleep finally came.

ooo

What remained of the summer passed quickly and uneventfully. Sirius' condition had improved rapidly enough so that he could return to his house, although he was ordered by a Healer not to do any strenuous physical activity.

It was during one of Hermione's sweeps of the house to check for forgotten items that the picture was found. Harry had been moving things from his room downstairs when he heard Hermione calling his name. Setting Hedwig's empty cage by the side of the stairs he walked into the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Hermione pointed to a backpack by the door that led outside. "This has been sitting here for a month," Hermione said. "Haven't you seen it?"

"Um," Harry said noncommittally. It was quite possible that it had been sitting there for a month, but if it had Harry hadn't paid any attention to it.

"Right," Hermione said. "Well, I went through it and it's fully packed, including a moldy sandwich that I had to throw away. Harry…I think this is the pack that you took when you went outside with Ginny for the last time."

"What?" Harry said, not following her sudden jump in logic.

"It had a camera in it, and we were missing a camera," Hermione explained. "Ginny never brought back her pack that day and I thought it was lost — but I think you brought both back."

Harry thought hard, trying to remember. Ginny had hopped on his Firebolt and took off without her pack and yes, he had returned with both of them.

"Okay," Harry said, nodding. "But how do you know it was mine?"

"Well," Hermione said, looking uncomfortable, "it was a plain cheese sandwich. Ginny doesn't like just cheese."

Harry was just barely able to contain a bout of laughter at Hermione's fear of being too nosy. "So," Harry said when he was sure he would not laugh and offend Hermione, "what's your point?"

"The camera," Hermione said, and she held one up that Harry hadn't previously noticed. "You were sure that you took a picture of a Unicorn, but there weren't any pictures taken — but that was _Ginny's_ camera. And we know the Chimera was real —"

"So maybe I actually did see a Unicorn and it's on that camera," Harry finished. "Well go on then. Let's have a look."

As Hermione fiddled with the camera Harry thought about the Chimera, and then back to something Sirius had said the day Lupin had been found on his property, something Harry had forgotten in all the excitement. "Hermione, have you heard of any non-Quidditch Tournament? Sirius said he was keeping the Chimera as a favor for Dumbledore."

"No," Hermione muttered distractedly, and Harry suspected that she hadn't really heard him. After fiddling with it for a few seconds as she finally got the camera to eject a small picture; Harry hurried over to Hermione and looked at the photo. There was indeed a Unicorn, slowly grazing on the grass in the moving photograph. But there was something else.

"Is that a man?" Hermione said, squinting. "There, in the background."

"I can't tell," Harry admitted, stepping back. "It's too small. Don't you have a magnifying glass or something in your trunk?"

Hermione nodded and left the room, leaving Harry alone with the photograph. It was possibly a person, but if so the person had been far enough away that Harry hadn't noticed him or her when he had taken the picture. Harry figured that it had to be Sirius, because Hermione would have been with Ron that day.

"I got it," Hermione announced as she walked back into the room with a small magnifying glass.

"It has to be Sirius," Harry said as Hermione inspected the picture.

Hermione stared at it for a minute and then slowly lowered the magnifying glass away from her eye. "Harry," she said slowly, "I think you should take a look at this."

Wondering what Hermione seemed concerned about Harry picked up the photograph and took a look at it with the magnifying glass. Maybe a few hundred feet away from where Harry had been standing when he had taken the photo, visible only through a remarkable series of gaps in the trees, was a man dressed in black.

It was not Sirius. The person was looking directly at the camera, and after a second stepped to the side, slipping out of sight.

"Harry," Hermione said as he put down the picture, "who was that?"

"I don't know," Harry said slowly. "But I think that Sirius should see this."

ooo

Once again Harry was quite sure that he was being kept out of the loop. Sirius had told him not to worry, that it had most likely been just some reporter. Harry was sure he was lying, a suspicion reinforced the next morning when six people he had never met before, arrived seemingly led by a tall black man whose mere presence seemed to indicate that he was in command. Sirius said that they were there to check the integrity of several charms on the house, but they spent little time actually around the house and disappeared onto the grounds for the entirety of the day.

And then Hermione returned to her parents, and Ron and Ginny to theirs. It was the last day or two of summer, and school supplies still needed to be purchased. This went on without a hitch and before Harry knew it he was pushing his trolley through the barrier at platform nine and three-quarters. As he was approaching the seemingly solid wall he suddenly felt sure that it was going to bounce off, because the wall was solid for some reason. Then Ron would suggest to fly the car to Hogwarts, and they would, and he would become friends with Ginny.

But this was not his second year at Hogwarts, no matter how much he wished that he could go back to those friendly terms with Ginny, the trolley passed through without event, and for the first time in his life Harry was not excited to see the Hogwarts Express.

ooo

The Weasleys had by chance met up with Harry before crossing the barrier, and after Harry went through Ginny waited for Ron and the twins to go, being last in line.

"We need to talk."

Ginny spun around to see Hermione, trolley next to her, arms crossed. It seemed like quite a coincidence that Hermione had run into Ginny…unless she had been looking for her.

"We don't have time," Ginny said evasively, having a feeling what this was about. "The train —"

"— Leaves in fifteen minutes," Hermione finished. "We have time."

"Okay," Ginny relented.

"You need to talk to Harry," Hermione said simply. "By now pretty much everyone who's been around you two has a good guess about what happened — and in the case of Ron, who hasn't guessed, that's purely because he can't handle the thought that his best friend has any non-platonic feelings about his sister — or vice versa. And from the way you're acting it's pretty obvious that you're the problem, not him. He doesn't deserve this."

Ginny opened her mouth to make an indignant reply and closed it; it was hard to summon righteous anger when she knew Hermione was telling the truth.

"Talk to him, Ginny," Hermione repeated. "If not you should find someone else to help you with your schoolwork."

Hermione turned around and pushed her trolley over to the barrier, leaving Ginny behind.

Ginny was taken aback by Hermione's mini-speech. Hermione had come as close as she could to flat-out saying that she wouldn't be friends with Ginny anymore unless Ginny talked to Harry. This, plus the uncharacteristic manner in which Hermione had been acting, told Ginny something that she hadn't realized before. From what he had said at times Ginny had always thought that Harry regarded Hermione as more than a best friend, as a sister, but she had always thought that Hermione simply thought of Harry as a good friend. But maybe he was like a brother to her, which would explain the uncharacteristic strength of her reaction.

With a sigh Ginny started to push her cart in the direction of the barrier. She had been putting off talking to Harry for a long time, but it seemed that would be coming to an end. Ginny just hoped that she would say the right things —and perhaps more importantly, that he wouldn't say the wrong things.

ooo

A fair portion of the train ride had passed in an awkward silence, as if Ron and Hermione felt that casual conversation would turn bad when both Harry and Ginny were put in a small, enclosed space together — or perhaps they were giving them a chance to talk to each other. If that was the case then they were sorely disappointed, for Harry did not really speak with Ginny while all four were together in the train compartment. Still there were plenty of other compartments that Ginny could have chosen if she was trying to avoid him, so that was something.

At the end of the train ride Hermione led Ron away, and he was sure that it was so that he could be alone with Ginny. Harry looked across the compartment at Ginny, who — for the first time in a long time — truly met and held his gaze.

Harry just wanted to be friends with her again. No matter how much he wanted to go beyond that, if it was a choice between just being friends or nothing he would choose friends any day. Ginny swallowed and Harry was pretty sure she was thinking along the same lines. Harry looked down at the ground and waited to see if she would say anything. Finally Ginny spoke, sounding like she had something caught in her throat.

"Harry," she said, her voice soft, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I kissed you."

"Don't be," Harry said, raising his gaze to her and shaking his head. "I'm not."

Ginny stood up, and Harry could see tears in her eyes. "But I am," she whispered, and walked quickly out of the cabin. Harry sat back and sighed, looking out the window. They were approaching Hogwarts, a sight that would usually fill him with joy. But the sky was a dark grey, perfectly matching his mode.

Harry hadn't meant to respond in the way he had, but now the truth was brutally clear. He couldn't give up on Ginny and she couldn't feel the same way. They couldn't be friends again. Not really. Something had changed between them, and Harry knew that his life could never be the same again. He had come to the realization that he would never be content with just being friends with Ginny, and that the only way he could get her to come back in his life was to be just friends. It was a problem with no solution.

ooo

_A/N: Perhaps not the happiest of chapters. Up next: the mysterious Tournament…not Quidditch, and it's Harry's fourth year. I wonder what it could possibly be._


	21. The Tournament

**_Just You and Me_**

_A/N: Please note: You may or may not have noticed that both the story description and one of the two categories have changed (from Romance/Action/Adventure to Romance/Angst). This does _not_ reflect any changes I have made to the plot since I posted the last chapter, as there haven't been any. The reason is because (as pointed out by a reviewer) it does seem to more accurately describe the story._

_I hear the comments on slow updating, and I will do everything I can to work on that. This (about three weeks) may be as fast as I can get them out…we'll see._

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Chapter Twenty-One:** **The Tournament**

Looking up at the sky Harry knew that it wasn't a question of if it was going to rain or not, but when. Pushing his way through the crowd of students, Harry tried to locate horseless stagecoaches before the downpour. After a few seconds he found the stagecoaches — but they weren't horseless.

Black, winged reptilian creatures that somewhat resembled horses were now attached to the coaches. Harry did not understand why they were there, as the coaches had always been perfectly capable of moving about by themselves without any assistance. He turned around to find Ron and Hermione standing right behind him, Ginny a few steps back.

"What d'you reckon those things are?" he asked, indicating the strange horses.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said quizzically.

"The horses attached to the carriages," Harry said, unsure what her confusion was about.

Hermione gave Harry a very odd look, the kind that was sually reserved for someone who had taken a knock on the head. "There aren't horses anywhere near the coaches, Harry."

Harry turned to Ron, but his friend just shrugged. "Trick of the light?" he suggested.

Harry looked back at the stagecoaches, and the creatures were still there. It was most definitely not a trick of the light. And if he was seeing something that didn't exist…did that mean that he was crazy? That the tension between him and Ginny had caused him to snap?

"Go ahead," Harry said, wanting to look at the weird creatures for as long as he could. "I'll be right in."

Ron and Hermione walked past him into the carriage, but Ginny paused right next to him.

"They're real," she said softly. "I see them too. You're not crazy."

Harry glanced sharply at her, but she was already striding away towards the four-person carriage. Following her, Harry thought about what she had said. It was a relief to know that he wasn't alone in seeing them, but how had she known what he had been afraid of? Maybe she still knew how to read Harry.

He just wished he knew how to read her.

ooo

"But they get _paid_? And holidays, and — and sick leave, and pensions and everything?"

Harry stopped listening to the conversation between Hermione and Nearly Headless Nick and instead devoted his attention to the mashed potatoes on his plate. Not a moment ago Hermione had been berating Ron on his eating habits, and now she was refusing to eat, muttering something about 'slave labor'. Ron started to wave the newly arrived deserts in her face, hoping to change her mind, but stopped after Hermione gave him a glare that even made Harry shrink back.

Despite his problems with Ginny and the encounter with the Death Eaters over the summer, Harry was pleased to find out that he could still enjoy the feast. Chocolate gateau, treacle tart, they all vanished until all that was left in the Great Hall were crumbs and the occasional scrap of uneaten food. That soon faded off the plates, and noise died down as Dumbledore got to his feet.

Harry started to tune out most of Dumbledore's speech; he hadn't exactly had a great day, and despite the chocolate he wasn't in the mood to listen to the long list of the items that Filch had banned. He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed Dumbledore's next announcement.

" — My painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"_What?_" Harry said in disbelief, echoed by Ginny. Looking around he saw that Fred and George were too stunned to speak, and all across the Hall words of protest sprung up.

"This is due to an event," Dumbledore continued, and the noise settled down, "that will be starting in October and —"

Dumbledore was interrupted by the sound of the doors being thrown open, a _crack _from a bolt of lightning, and the large doors being slammed closed again. A clunking noise sounded, followed by a footstep, and then the clunking noise, and so on. Harry heard Hermione gasp, and looked back to see what was going on.

A man had entered the Great Hall, but he was like no other man that Harry had seen before. It was impossible to judge his age; the only clue that indicated that he was an older man was the grayness of his long hair. It was as if someone had haphazardly taken a chisel to a bust of a human face, put scars everywhere, and for good measure knocked a chunk out of the nose.

And his eye…one was normal, small, dark and beady. But the other one was huge, a bright blue color, and it was constantly moving, but not in coordination with the other eye: forwards, sideways, it even rolled backwards and looked inside his head at times.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," Ginny whispered from across the table.

"Don't be daft," Ron said dismissively as the newcomer greeted Dumbledore like an old friend. "Dumbledore wouldn't bring a nutter like Moody into Hogwarts."

"Dad said he was a great Auror," Ginny said, sounding defensive.

"Ginny, Dad collects _sparkplugs_," Fred said from a few feet away, joining the conversation. "You have to take his opinions with a pinch of salt. But as a matter of fact, I do think that might actually be —"

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said, once again silencing conversation. "Professor Moody."

"Hah," Ginny said softly in Ron's direction, and despite himself Harry smiled.

"Snape's not happy about losing the post again," Ron said to Harry, and Harry saw that Snape did indeed look unhappy, but unusually so. It was not the loathing he reserved for Lupin and later Sirius, nor was it fear; it seemed to be something one notch below that. Harry noticed that Moody's magical eye pointing in his direction, and did not leave Harry even as Moody took a swig from a hip flask.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore went on, "there is no Quidditch Cup this year. This is because Hogwarts has been given the honor to host the Triwizard Tournament."

ooo

Harry was moving with the crowd exiting the Great Hall, still thinking about what Dumbledore had said about the Triwizard Tournament, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"The Headmaster wants to see you, Harry Potter."

The voice was a deep growl, and it was not until Harry spun around and saw Moody that he realized who had spoken.

"Okay," he said, shrugging at Ron and Hermione. Moody led him away, against the flow of students, and up to the tables where the staff had been sitting; most had vacated their seats, and only Dumbledore and Snape remained, the latter in the process of leaving.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "I hope you enjoyed the feast. Have you met Professor Moody?"

Harry looked over his shoulder at the battle-worn wizard.

"Yeah," he said, looking back at Dumbledore. "We've met."

"Splendid," Dumbledore said. "Now, I assume that you have been thinking about the Tournament."

Harry nodded.

"Have you given thought to entering it?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Not really," Harry answered honestly; he had a lot on his mind, and he hadn't really had time to think about it.

"I understand that it may be tempting, despite the age limit," Dumbledore said. "But I ask you not under any circumstances to attempt to put you name in, or have another student do it for you. The Triwizard Tournament is associated with fame and glory, yes — but also death. Especially in light of the attack at the Quidditch World Cup, I believe it would be extraordinarily dangerous for you to compete. I would like your word, Harry, that you will not attempt to enter the Tournament."

"You have it," Harry said. "I've had enough fame to last a lifetime, anyway."

"That you have," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Now, unless there is something you would wish to say, you are free to head up to your common room."

Harry was about to say that there wasn't anything, but then he remembered the dream he had where he was Voldemort over the summer. He hadn't planned to bother Dumbledore about it, but since the Headmaster was asking…

"There was one thing," he said. "A day or two after the Cup I had this weird dream."

Harry briefly retold his dream for Dumbledore, from Bellatrix's words to what Voldemort's body had felt like. When Harry finished he saw Dumbledore briefly glance at Snape, and then back at Harry.

"Thank you for telling me this," Dumbledore said. "Do not worry yourself about it, Harry…but please let me know if you have another one."

Harry nodded and smiled, but on the way up to the common room he wondered if he actually _should_ be concerned about the dream. If it wasn't anything to worry about, then why did Dumbledore want to know if he had another one?

ooo

"_Shut it_, Malfoy."

Harry was walking to dinner when he heard Ginny's voice from inside the Entrance Courtyard. It had been a relatively uneventful day: he had tended to something that Hagrid called 'Skrewts' in Care of Magical Creatures, been scolded by Hermione for forgetting to put on his protective gloves to deal with Bubotubers in double Herbology, and suffered through Treelawny making predictions of his imminent demise for the last two periods of the day.

Stopping and turning around, Harry saw Ginny and Draco standing off to one side. Ginny was wearing an angry expression on her face, her hands on her hip; Draco holding a scrap of paper, sporting his signature a sneer. Changing direction Harry walked over to the pair, trying to figure out what was going on.

" — a sensitive spot, did I?" Draco was saying. "They couldn't get his first _or _his last name right, that's how insignificant he is — and you're actually _proud_ of your dad, consorting with Muggles and filth all day."

"I'd rather be his daughter than the inbred child of a Death Eater," Ginny shot back.

Draco's cheeks colored with anger and reached for his wand; Ginny mirrored him, but she tried to draw it too quickly and it caught on her pocket; Ginny's wand slipped out of her grasp and fell onto the stone bricks at her feet. Draco quickly aimed his wand at Ginny, and Harry aimed his at Draco. Harry was standing to the side of Ginny and Draco, and neither had noticed him.

"You watch what you say, Weasley," Draco spat.

"You watch what _you_ say, Malfoy," Ginny retorted. "You remember the bat bogeys I gave you a couple years ago? You know, the flying bogeys that come out of your nose? Bet you'd run away screaming again."

Ginny's hostility towards Draco seemed greater than usual, and as he crept closer Harry could see the reason why Ginny was so incensed. The scrap of paper that Draco was holding was actually a newspaper clipping from the _Daily Prophet_. Featuring an unflattering moving picture of Mr. Weasley, the title was printed in large bold letters.

.

**FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC: ARNOLD WEASEL UNDER FIRE**

.

"And how's _your _dad, anyway?" Ginny went on. "Heard he just got out of Azkaban last month. Wasn't that the second time he was locked up in a year? I'm sure it's doing your family name wonders."

"That's it, Weasley," Draco snapped. "_Furn_ —"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, and Draco's wand flew out of his hand, landing a few feet behind him.

"Potter," Draco said, and if looks were curses Harry was sure that he would fall dead right now.

"You can pick up your wand now," Harry said to Ginny, keeping his wand trained on Draco.

Ginny bent down and retrieved her wand. Turning, she started to walk out of the courtyard and into the hall; she paused for a second when she reached Harry.

"Thank you," Ginny said, and then continued walking, leaving Harry alone with Draco.

"Get your wand and get out of here," Harry said to Draco, and turned around to head back for dinner. Suddenly there was a _bang_ and something hot grazed the side of Harry's face; he spun around, but before he set eyes on Draco there was a second _bang._

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Mad-Eye Moody was making his way down a stair case, the distinctive mixture of a footstep and the _clump_ of his wooden leg loud among the small crowd which had gathered.

In Draco's place stood a white ferret, shivering and frozen in place with fear.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled at Harry.

"Missed," Harry responded.

"Now," Moody said, clumping over to the ferret. "I don't like people who attack unarmed ladies."

Moody waved his wand and the ferret levitated into the air: moving down he sent it crashing into the ground. He then started to wave his wand, repeatedly sending the ferret into the floor.

"I also don't like people who attack when their opponent's back is turned," Moody went on. "And I _especially_ don't like the spawn of —"

"Professor Moody!"

Moody did not turn to face Professor McGonagall, who was coming down the same stairs Moody had came down with her arms full of books, but his magical eye swiveled backwards so that it was looking at her.

"Evening," he said gruffly and continued to bounce the ferret up and down, seeming to take pleasure out of it.

"What — what are you doing?" McGonagall said, her eyes tracking the ferret's progress.

"Teaching," Moody replied.

"Teach — Moody, _is that a student_?" McGonagall shrieked, books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," Moody confirmed, levitating the ferret higher than before sending it crashing back down to the ground.

"No!" McGonagall yelled, and she ran down the staircase, drawing her wand: with a swipe and a _snap_ the ferret vanished and Draco reappeared, his robes ripped and his body battered.

"Moody, we _never_ use Transfiguration as a punishment," McGonagall said. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He mentioned it," Moody said, "but I thought that with this particular student —"

"_Never_," McGonagall said sternly. "You may take house points, give detentions, speak to the student's head of house, but _no Transfigurations_."

"I'll do just that, then," Moody said, looking at Draco with visible dislike. "Been meaning to have a chat with Snape anyway."

"Just wait until my father hears about this —" Draco started to mutter, but Moody cut him off.

"Your father, eh?" Moody said, limping over towards Draco. "I know your father very well, boy. When you tell him, let him know that I said this: if there's something I hate more than any other, it's a Death Eater who walked free. You let him know Moody said that."

With that Moody walked away towards the dungeons, dragging Draco by the arm. Putting his wand back in his pocket Harry turned about face and walked over to the Gryffindor table, where dinner was just starting to be served. He managed to find a seat next to Ron and opposite Hermione, and sat down.

"What're you smiling about?" Ron asked, a piece of roast chicken halfway to his mouth.

Harry just shook his head. "Ron, you just missed what could have been the best moment of your life."

ooo

When Ginny thought about the start of her three years at Hogwarts, she came to the conclusion that while the first had been both fun and nerve-wracking — for a moment back then she had been sure that she would be expelled for flying a car to Hogwarts — the start of the other two years had, to put it simply, sucked. Last year she had faced Tom Riddle prying his way back into her life, as well as being ostracized by even her fellow Gryffindors for her role in the Chamber of Secrets incident.

But she had still been friends with Harry. This year she felt so much more alone, and Draco's taunting really hadn't helped matters. Ginny was glad that Harry had both been there and decided to intervene, because Draco had been about to hex her. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to bring up his father while he was holding her at wandpoint, but when he started to insult _her_ dad she hadn't been able to help it. Ginny felt very close to her dad; she had managed to tell him about Tom Riddle, making him the only person besides Harry who she had ever told. To her relief he hadn't questioned the authenticity of her tale or displayed the kind of excessive pitying that her mum would give. From her mum's behavior — more specifically, the lack of any changes —told Ginny that her dad hadn't told her, and keeping that confidentiality meant the world. So when Draco tried to prop up Lucius Malfoy, who would give Tom Riddle to an eleven year old girl, over her dad…

The only thing that had made the three days since her arrival bearable was that other students were no longer avoiding her like she had the plague. Joining the Quidditch team had helped immensely with that over the course of the previous year, and with the passage of another summer Ginny figured that only the students that had long memories and were prone to keep grudges remembered — and the attack victims.

She hadn't had much in the way of contact with Justin Finch-Fletchley simply because not only were they in different houses, they were also in different years; as a consequence, their schedules didn't match and their recreational time was less likely to be spent near each other. Colin Creevey, on the other hand, was in Gryffindor and still seemed scared to death of Ginny, a fear he had passed on to his newly-arrived younger brother.

Ginny was not scheduled to take Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Moody until right before dinner on Thursday, along with the Ravenclaws. Ginny had heard good things from other students: Moody was supposedly demonstrating the three Unforgivable Curses, even to fourth-years. Ginny didn't know a whole lot the Unforgivables, only what she would overhear from her dad's conversations.

Ginny desperately hoped that Moody would draw the line a fourth-years; she knew that the first and second-years had not been shown the curses. The last thing she wanted to do was to hear the incantations, see the wand movements. Not with Tom Riddle still lurking in her head. And as Ginny shuffled in to the classroom and took a seat near the front of the room, Ginny started to cross her fingers — and stopped when she remembered the rumors that Moody could see through desks.

"Curses come in many strengths and forms," Moody said. "The Ministry of Magic doesn't see it fit to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until your sixth year. They want to have me teach you countercurses and leave it at that. You're not supposed to be able to handle it until then."

Moody slowly paced across the front of the room, his eye swiveling in his head.

"But Dark Wizards don't draw a line at a certain age," Moody went on. "They'll kill you just as dead whether you're eight or eighty. I say that thirteen is plenty old enough to deal with the darkest of curses. The sooner you know what you're up against the better. If you haven't seen it, how are you supposed to defend yourself against it?"

Moody's eye roamed the class as he took a quick swig from his flask and grimaced before continuing.

"So," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand, "do any of you know which of the curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

A few hands rose into the air, and Moody pointed at a Ravenclaw girl with long, dirty-blond hair who Ginny had never noticed before.

"There's the Imperious Curse," the girl said in a dreamy voice. "The Ministry is currently using it to make an army of house-elfs —"

"You would be Lovegood," Moody said, not bothering to check the register. "Your father's views aside, it did give the Ministry quite a bit of trouble back in the day."

Moody limped over to the desk and withdrew a jar, which turned out to contain a single spider. Putting it on the table he held it in the palm of his hand so that it was visible; Ginny had to suppress a smile when she imagined how Ron must have reacted to the lesson.

"_Imperio!_" Moody said, pointing his wand at the spider. With a wave of Moody's wand the arachnid started to act as if it was a performer at a circus, launching into a tap dance. Pretty much everyone Ginny, save Moody, was laughing at the spider's antics.

"It's not funny," Ginny whispered, watching the spider. When Tom Riddle had possessed Ginny she hadn't been in control of her actions, and she didn't see the humor in doing something similar to anyone else, even if it was just a spider.

"She's right," Moody growled, and it was then that Ginny realized that he had somehow heard her. "You lot think it's funny? You'd like it, then, if I did it to you?"

The laughter vanished.

"A dark witch or wizard isn't going to use the Imperious Curse to make you dance," Moody said, his voice low, but since everyone else was silent it seemed to fill the room. "Anything I can do with this spider, they can do with you. Have you jump off the highest tower, set yourself on fire, betray everything you believe in, slit the throat of your best friend…"

Moody trailed off, and both his eyes fixed on Ginny. "You're Weasley?" he said, as much a statement as a question.

Ginny nodded. She was pretty sure that she knew why Moody was looking at her like he was. The fact that she had been possessed two years ago wasn't exactly a secret, and she was sure that a former Auror, especially one like Moody, would find interest in that.

"Right after You-Know-Who fell from power," Moody went on, "a lot of his followers claimed that they had only been serving him because they were under the influence of the Imperious Curse. Some were, of course, but here's the rub — _how do you sort out the liars_?"

Moody let his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "The Imperious Curse can be fought, and in some cases resisted. I'll be teaching you how to do it, but it takes real strength of character and not everyone is up to it. Your best bet is to avoid being hit with it, if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody barked, causing Ginny to start along with the rest of the class.

Moody waved his wand at the spider, which was still doing a tap dance, and it became still.

"Anyone know the next one?" Moody said, his normal eye roaming across the room — but Ginny noticed that his magical eye was still fixed on her.

"There's the Cruciatus Curse," one of the Ravenclaws said.

"Ah, yes," Moody said. "Nasty one this is. _Engorgio!_"

The spider grew in size until it surpassed that of any normal spider that Ginny had ever seen before.

Moody kept his wand pointed at the spider and said, "_Crucio!_"

The spider rolled over on its back and tucked in its legs in as if it was dead, but the rest of its actions showed that it was most certainly not; the spider rocked from side to side, twitching, obviously in pain but unable to make any noise. Ginny bit her lip, because even though she hadn't had the misfortune to experience the Cruciatus before, she did know what being tortured felt like. Ginny looked at Moody, hoping that he would stop, and for a moment Ginny was disconcerted because in that instant it appeared that Moody was almost _enjoying_ himself —

But then he raised his wand and the spider's legs curled out again, although it continued to twitch and did not roll over off its back. With the tip of his wand Moody flipped it right side up and then looked at the class.

"The Torture Curse," he said. "The most painful form of it there is. You can steel your mind against knives and fire, but the Cruciatus doesn't work like that. Very, very few people can hold out against it, which is why it was a popular one back in the day. And the last one?"

No one raised their hands, either because no one knew, or the people who did know didn't want to see it.

"Avada Kedavra," Ginny said without thinking.

"Correct," Moody said. "The Killing Curse."

Ginny blinked, startled at herself. She knew of the Killing Curse — how could she not after having read so much about Harry Potter — but couldn't recall ever hearing the incantation for it before. She had no idea why, or _how_, she had said that.

"The last of the three illegal curses," Moody said to his hushed audience, "and the worst."

Moody aimed his wand at the spider, which was now trying to feebly crawl away, and Ginny felt her skin turn to ice as if a Dementor had come into the room: she knew what was going to happen, but she didn't want to see it —

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Moody roared, and a green jet of light erupted from his wand; when it hit the spider it instantaneously rolled over on its back, dead.

A few students cried out, and Ginny felt a little faint. That was how Harry's parents had died, and the Basilisk surely had killed Kettleburn as quickly as that.

To think that she had heard other students laughing about how amazing Moody's first class was…

Moody swept the dead spider off his desk with his wand, and then looked at the class with his original eye.

"It's not nice or pleasant," he said. "There's no countercurse. No way to block it. Only one known person has survived it, and I think we all know who he is."

Ginny wasn't sure what to think about the fact that for the entire remainder of the lesson, and even on her way out the door, Moody's magical eye never stopped looking at her.

ooo

It was midnight, but Ginny was still sitting up in bed, wide awake. It wasn't that her day — which had been pretty lousy — was keeping her up, but rather that she was trying to stay awake, frightened by the thought bouncing around in her head.

She was lonely. Hermione had pretty much stopped talking with her, and to be perfectly honest Ginny had never really developed much in the way of friends besides Harry and Hermione.

And just like her first year, Tom was waiting for her, the person to run to when she had no one else. Only unlike last year he was no longer a friend that listened and cared about her every worry; now he was in charge and cared only for himself, and not for her at all.

And yet when Ginny inevitably drifted off she wasn't all that surprised to find herself back in her room at the Burrow; Riddle was standing in his usual corner, leaning against the wall.

"You can say it," Ginny said when he did not speak. "You were right. I was wrong."

"I do not gloat, Ginevra," Riddle said. "Even though you _were_ wrong. Did you really think that you could stay away from me?"

"It's not like that," Ginny protested.

"You are still deluding yourself," Riddle said, straightening up. "My dear, if you were simply lonely it would have been far easier for you to mend the gap between you and Potter. It is quite obvious that he would jump at the chance. That is not why you came back."

This was why Ginny really hadn't wanted to be with Riddle again. It wasn't so much the fear that he would hurt her: she was pretty sure that would be reserved for times when she broke his rules. It was that he confused her, twisted her mind in ways that she didn't like.

"Alright," Ginny said slowly. "I know you want me to learn spells. But I can't get through school and learn all the other magic I need to know if I can't get any sleep at night every day of the week. So we do this two, maybe three times a week."

Riddle's face was unreadable, but since he said nothing Ginny pushed on. "And if I want to stop, then you —"

"_No_," Riddle said forcefully, cutting Ginny off. "You are forgetting your place, Ginevra — do you need a second reminder? Your first request is reasonable, for you will indeed need to know more than dueling to succeed…three nights per week shall suffice. But _you_ are not in charge here. If we stop it is because _I_ say we do. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Ginny could only nod; the thought of another night like the one last year, when he had written who she belonged to on her, was enough to get rid of any disobedience.

"Good," Riddle said, casually pulling out his wand. "We shall practice the Stunning Spell today, but it may not be too long before we graduate into something more practical. I believe you now know what the Unforgivable Curses are?"

"Hold on," Ginny said, just remembering something. "I knew what 'Avada Kedavra' meant. How did I know that? I've never heard that before in my life."

"Actually, you have," Riddle said, causing Ginny to look sharply at him. "I mentioned it approximately one and a half years ago, in the Chamber of Secrets."

"But — I don't remember —" Ginny stammered.

"No, you don't remember that," Riddle agreed. "It makes you wonder what other blank spots are actually repressed memories, waiting to be unearthed. Maybe all the things that you don't remember from your first year that are actually buried memories, not times you were unconscious…speaking of that, you can't recall the times when the Basilisk was unleashed, can you?"

Ginny swallowed, and Riddle smiled.

ooo

The small rat-like man cowered in front of Harry, his eyes looking everywhere but at the chair that Harry was propped up in.

"You said you had something to report," Harry said, his voice unnaturally high and cold. "Tell me what it is, Wormtail."

"My Lord," Wormtail said shakily, "The spy at Hogwarts managed to get a message out —"

"Look at your master when you talk, Wormtail," Harry said sharply, and Wormtail reluctantly raised his eyes to Harry. "Now," Harry continued, "what was the message?"

"He said — he said that Harry Potter told Dumbledore about a dream," Wormtail stammered. "In the dream he heard a conversation you had with Bellatrix. My Lord, I talked — I talked with Bellatrix, and it was something you talked about, word for word."

"You are sure of this?" Harry hissed softly, and Wormtail nodded nervously. "Contact the spy and tell him not to communicate with me until he is finished," Harry said. "And then speak no more of the spy until Harry Potter is dead."

Wormtail nodded again —

— And Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring at the top of his bunk at Hogwarts.

It had been another dream.

At breakfast Harry finished telling Ron and Hermione about the dream, having started the tale on the way down to the Great Hall. When he was done talking he started to put jam on a piece of toast, in the process giving Hermione an opportunity to speak.

"You need to tell Dumbledore," Hermione said. "He asked you to tell him if you had another one of those dreams."

"Yeah," Harry said, "but last time I told Dumbledore, Voldemort's spy ending up hearing it all."

"You can't honestly think that _Dumbledore_ is a —"

"No, I don't," Harry said, cutting Hermione off. "But Snape was standing right next to Dumbledore when I told him about my first dream."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, we suspected that Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone —"

"Right," Harry said, "But —"

"Then after that," Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard Harry, "you two thought that Snape might be the Heir of Slytherin —"

"That was more Ron —"

"In fact, about the only thing you_ haven't_ suspected Snape of was aiding Sirius last year," Hermione finished. "I know you two don't like each other, but that doesn't mean that he's helping You-Know-Who."

"In that case you're saying that the spy is Moody, because he was the only other person within hearing distance," Harry countered. "And who seems more likely to be spying for Voldemort: the Auror who spent most of his life fighting dark wizards and got mutilated because of it, or the evil git from Slytherin, who for some reason Dumbledore trusts?"

"But that's _just_ it, Harry," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "You said it — Dumbledore trusts him. I trust Dumbledore's judgment, and you should too. Just tell him, Harry."

"No," Harry insisted. "Dumbledore might tell Snape. What we have to do is find out if the spy is Snape or not."

"No offense," Ron said, spooning some eggs onto his plate, "but I'm getting a little sick of figuring out a mystery and saving the world from You-Know-Who every year. Maybe we could just leave this one alone."

Harry relented and returned to his nearly untouched breakfast. He would be keeping a close eye on Snape, because despite what Hermione had said he had a feeling that something was not right with the Potions Master.

ooo

After a routine Astronomy and Charms class Ginny found herself actually enjoying double Potions. The class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were attempting to make Pepperup Potions, and if they were deemed passable they would be bottled up and given to Madam Pomfrey for use in the infirmary. It wasn't an easy potion to make and she had a feeling that most of the attempts would be Vanished, but after adding the last pinch of finely chopped ginger, pouring the small amount of potion into the provided vial and setting it down on Snape's desk, Ginny she felt pretty confident that it would pass.

The bell rang and the students filed out of the classroom. Ginny hesitated; she wasn't hungry, and didn't really have anyone to talk to anymore.

"You will be late for dinner," Snape said, and Ginny looked up at him.

"I'm not hungry," Ginny said. "Do you need any help putting things away?" she asked, figuring it was something to do with her time.

"I do not give out extra credit, and in any case you do not need any," Snape replied. "Your potion was near perfect and your grade is high."

"I'm not looking for points," Ginny said. "I just need — I just need something to do."

Ginny dearly hoped that Snape would not ask why she did not currently have any friends that she could to do things with, and to her relief he did not.

"During summer break there was an accident and the majority of my supplies were ruined," he said. "I had time to replace them, but not to sort them. Every jar, vial and book are labeled, but not placed in any order. They are in that cabinet," he finished, indicating a massive wooden cabinet on the far wall. "Alphabetical order should do."

"Thanks," Ginny said, and walked over to the cabinet. It spanned nearly the whole length of the wall and there were multiple large doors across it. Upon opening the door on the far left Ginny could immediately tell that it was not a task that could be accomplished in one day, or even one week. The shelves were deep and every inch of space was packed with potions supplies, from rat tails to instructional books.

"Right," Ginny said, and she went to work. While the work was both challenging and somewhat repetitive — which was typically not a good combination — Ginny had inherited a knack for cleaning up things from her mother, and was actually making progress while Snape disposed of the botched attempts to make the Pepperup Potion and graded some essays. Ginny wasn't watching the time, and an hour, or perhaps two, passed in silence before Ginny spoke; based on her previous dealings with Snape she figured that he wouldn't be a bad person to ask the question that had been nagging her.

"Are the carriages pulled by something?" Ginny asked.

"Since you are asking the question I assume that you have seen them," Snape said. "They are Thestrals, visible only to those who have seen death."

Ginny was relieved, because that meant that there was a logical explanation behind the odd horses. But it also left her with a question: why could she seem them? She was pretty sure that Kettleburn was the only person that she could have had seen die, but she had been possessed at the time…unless Tom was right, and he hadn't been possessing her. Or maybe there was a third possibility that Ginny hadn't thought of, something that would explain it but wouldn't mean that she had gone along with Riddle's plan willingly.

Things with Tom Riddle were never simple.

"Do many students do this?" Ginny asked after a few moments. "Help out?"

"Sometimes a Slytherin looking to get on my good side will offer to help clean up," Snape said, "but typically Gryffindors exit this room as fast as physically possible."

Ginny smiled. "Well, I can tell you that I won't be able to finish this tonight. I might have to come back another time and keep working on it."

There was a long silence during which Ginny sorted more supplies, finally broken by Snape.

"Has the Dark Lord been any less harsh?" he inquired.

"Why do you ask?" Ginny said, not looking at Snape.

"Last time we talked on the subject you had blood on your face," Snape stated. "I do not know what happened, but as I am the one responsible for both giving you the sleep potion and taking it away, I do have some interest in the matter."

Ginny put the flask she was holding down and looked at Snape. "It's better," she said. "He's not hurting me anymore. That was just when I did what he told me not to do."

Ginny hesitated, wondering if she should keeping going and venture into even more private areas. But for some reason Snape seemed like a person that she could talk to and trust that it would stay between them. Admittedly she had been a pretty poor judge of confidants in the past — which had nearly cost Ginny her life — but Snape didn't seem anything like Tom Riddle.

"But now he's…he's confusing," Ginny went on. "I'm confused around him. I don't know what I feel about things, what I feel about him…"

Ginny trailed off.

"The fact that you are confused is of little surprise," Snape said. "The Dark Lord was always one of the most accomplished manipulators, and it would be child's play for him to make a young witch doubt herself."

"He says that I'm like him," Ginny went on. "And it scares me a little, because he gave me all this evil dreams, and I — part of me liked some of the bad things I did."

"Of course," Snape said, causing Ginny to glance sharply at him. "Everyone has that in them, even the Headmaster. The Dark Lord would have no trouble bringing that to the surface and making you wonder if it was just a part. It is not _that_ you have that part of you that defines who you are; rather, it is _what_ you do with it."

Ginny was quiet for a moment before speaking. "I thought that I was unconscious for the whole time I was in the Chamber, but I'm starting to remember some of it. Tom says that some of the other times I might have just forgotten, and I was awake, not unconscious or possessed. Like the times when the Basilisk was attacking people."

"That he told you this is your strongest proof that it is not true," Snape said. "You would be a fool to believe everything he says, Weasley. Being possessed would make you forget what happened, and in this case a blank spot does not mean that it has to be a suppressed memory."

"But — what if —"

"If you were awake and conscious when the attacks took place?" Snape finished. "In that extremely unlikely scenario you are still not at fault. As I said, tricking you into doing things would be easy for him. Besides, that three out of the four victims are still breathing is proof that in either case you resisted; a Basilisk does not know how to wound. Finch-Fletchley, Creevey and Granger avoided dying because they managed not to look it in the eyes, but it would have taken only a matter of seconds for the Basilisk to finish the job. You _stopped_ it, Weasley."

"I told you that you could call me Ginny," Ginny said softly.

There was yet another period of silence, before Ginny asked, "Why do you always call Voldemort 'The Dark Lord'? You never flinch or anything if his name is said, and you don't call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but you don't call him by his name."

"Force of habit," Snape said curtly.

"But who exactly calls him that?" Ginny insisted.

Snape was slow in responding. "We all make choices in life," he said. "Sometimes they are the wrong ones."

He didn't elaborate on the subject, and since Ginny could sense that he did not wish to talk about it she let it be. Ginny resumed working and kept at it until one of her occasional glances at her old watch showed that it was nearing time for her to go to bed.

"I should be going now," she said. "See you on Monday, Professor."

Snape nodded and Ginny walked out of the room, slowly making her way up to Gryffindor tower. Back when she was only old enough to dream about the magical school, this was certainly not what she had imagined her third year at Hogwarts would be like.

ooo

"Hey Loony, I saw a Snorakrack over there."

"Yeah, I saw it too. Come on, Loony, have a look."

Ginny was walking down on a corridor on Saturday morning, looking for a place to sit down and write her essay on the Unforgivables for Defense Against the Dark Arts, when she heard two male voices around the corner, jeering at someone.

"I don't believe that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack would fit in that cupboard," a dreamy voice said; it sounded familiar, but Ginny couldn't quite place the voice. "But you may have seen a Skipping Meleekey. They can look quite similar."

Curious, Ginny rounded the corner and saw three people walking down the hall. In the lead was the Ravenclaw that had mentioned the Imperious Curse during the Defense Against the Dark Arts class — Lovegood, Moody had said her name was. Ginny had noted her long, dirty-blond hair in class before, but not the other features that immediately stood out. She had protuberant silvery eyes, wore a necklace that seemed to be made of butterbeer corks, and appeared to have radishes for earrings. The two boys Ginny recognized as sixth-year Ravenclaws, and they looked to be following Lovegood.

"A Skipping what?" one of the boys mocked. "I think the only thing skipping is your brain, Loony."

"Oi, you two," Ginny called, and the sixth-years looked at her. "Leave her alone."

The three Ravenclaws were about twenty feet away. Ginny wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to intervene, but she wasn't about to stop now.

"Who're you?" the taller of the two boys demanded. "And what do you care about Loony?"

Ginny was aware that her recent string of not-so-happy events had made her temper quick to rise, but that knowledge wasn't enough to stop her from drawing her wand and pointing it at the older students.

"I'm sure her name isn't Loony, so stop calling her that," Ginny said, slowly moving her aim between the two. "Find something better to do with your day than pestering someone not even your own age."

"Or?" the taller Ravenclaw said, raising an eyebrow. "You gonna curse us?"

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "Have you ever heard of Bat Bogeys?"

The boy frowned. "Bat what? What did you —"

He stopped midsentence as a jet of light from Ginny's wand impacted him in the chest, within the course of a few seconds his mutated bogeys started to claw their way free from his nose. Spreading their wings as soon as they exited his nostrils, the bogeys took flight, swooping around his face and attacking it. The Ravenclaw started running in the opposite direction to avoid the bogeys, and soon vanished out of sight. Ginny kept her wand pointed at the other boy, who had started to reach for his wand. Raising his hands, he turned around and walked off in the direction of his companion.

"You're Lovegood, aren't you?" Ginny said when both sixth years were gone.

"I'm Luna," she said. "Thank you. No one has ever done that before."

"I'm Ginny," Ginny said, pocketing her wand. "I don't suppose you've done your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay yet?"

As Ginny walked with Luna towards a nice, quiet spot that Ginny sometimes studied in, she found herself liking the Ravenclaw girl. Sure, Luna didn't always make complete sense when she talked, but when she did make sense she _really_ made sense.

"You were right in class," Luna said. "Putting the curse on that spider wasn't as funny as everyone thought it was."

"I guess it's different when you only see it happen," Ginny replied, surprised to hear the bitterness in her voice. "It stops being a neat trick when it happens to you."

"It's not your fault, you know," Luna said. "None of what happened back then."

"How do you know what?" Ginny asked, stopping. "You don't know me. Maybe I actually helped with the attacks."

"No, I know you didn't do that," Luna said dreamily. "I can tell that you're a good person."

Ginny took a look at Luna, who cut a ridiculous figure with her garb and sounded even more ridiculous when she talked about fantastic creatures and colossal conspiracies. Luna was someone who Ginny never would have run into if her year was 'normal', and definitely not someone that she would have imagined herself spending any time with.

But in that moment Ginny knew that she had made a friend.

ooo

Sirius Black walked down the streets of Tëraz, making sure not to move too quickly and attract any attention. The small village was right out on the edge of the wilderness, and not commonly known of to outsiders. From what Sirius could tell it was made up entirely of Muggles, all of whom had been very kind to the traveler who spoke broken Albanian — perhaps it was a lack of newcomers that inspired the kindness, but whatever the reason Sirius was sorry to be leaving for darker places.

Soon he reached the edge of the village and continued walking, finding his way using the landmarks that Lupin had mentioned. It was slow going, and when Sirius checked his watch he saw that it had been nearly an hour; taking what appeared to be a water bottle from the bag that was slung over his shoulder he downed another dose of Polyjuice Potion, grimacing at the taste. He was in the disguise of a random Muggle he had found passed out in an alley in London, an empty bottle of beer clutched in his hand.

The sun was starting to go down by the time he found it. The final landmark was distinctive: a large white tree, split in half by a bolt of lightning. A small clearing lay beyond the tree, and Sirius made his way over to it, drawing his wand as he moved; if this was indeed Voldemort's former camp than it was possible there would be booby traps — but nothing happened when he entered the clearing. Shifting his wand to his left hand he withdrew a small vial full of a red liquid from his bag, took off the cap on the end, and held it high in front of him.

"_Cruor Reperio_," Sirius muttered, touching his wand to the vial, and with a flick of his wrist he tossed the vial high into the air. It spun in circles as it flew, spinning faster than it had any right to, and when the liquid sloshed out of the vial it also did not behave as it should. Dissolving into a red mist it scattered, each section slowly settling down onto the ground. With a grim smile Sirius returned his wand to his right hand and walked over to the nearest red patch on the ground. Acquiring Bellatrix's blood hadn't been easy, but the Ministry did have some on file that they had taken when she had been imprisoned. Using Order connections and more than a few Galleons, Sirius had been able to get a vial of it.

Lupin had managed to land exactly one hit on Bellatrix the night that he had been tricked and ambushed, and from watching the werewolf's memories Sirius had determined that she had been bleeding a little bit from a leg wound, perhaps so little that in the panic which must have ensued afterwards she wouldn't notice. Lupin was supposed to have died, not escaped, and they would have had to move fast as a precaution against being located.

Sirius had viewed Lupin's memories over and over, and had noticed things that the owner of said memories had not. Lupin had followed Voldemort from Albania to the ambush spot in Hungary, but Sirius had noticed far less supplies at the new campsite than Lupin had seen during the period he had been observing them in Albania. Sirius' theory — supported by so little evidence that it could be more accurately described as a hope — was that they had not moved everything by the time they had ambushed Lupin. If they hadn't moved everything then they would have hurried back to Albania to grab all the other supplies before Lupin could report his findings. And in a hurried move things can get left behind.

That was the theory, anyway. Observing the red spots on the ground, Sirius could see that Bellatrix had indeed been here, and had moved back and forth across the clearing.

"_Veneficus Quaero_," Sirius said clearly, waving his wand in a circle.

Nothing happened. Moving his wand in a complicated pattern, Sirius tried again: "_Prodigiosus Commotus_."

Still nothing. After running through a dozen such incantations and exhausting his inventory of spells that would help him find anything, Sirius snapped.

"Accio Voldemort's fucking plans!" Sirius yelled.

A piece of parchment soared out of a small mound of dirt and landed in Sirius' hand. Blinking in surprise, Sirius looked down at the piece dirty parchment, which was so covered in dirt and grime that no words were visible.

"_Tergeo_," Sirius said, waving his wand above the parchment, and as the dirt faded away three lines were revealed. Three lines, written in a very familiar handwriting.

Wormtail's.

.

_1: Riddle's bone. Will have access to._

_2: My hand. _

_3: Potter's blood. Triwizard._

.

Sirius stared at the parchment, which appeared to be a note of some sort that Wormtail had written. It didn't make a whole lot of sense: 'Riddle' had to refer to Voldemort, but he didn't understand what Wormtail meant by 'will have access to'.

The last line chilled Sirius, because even if the meaning wasn't clear the wording was sinister.

_Potter's blood. Triwizard._

Harry's blood. The Triwizard Tournament.

Sirius had hoped to find more, but he didn't have time to stick around and look for anything else. Only a month remained now until the goblet picked the champions and the Tournament began, and if his suspicions about that last line were true then time was running out quickly. Sirius may not have fully understood the note, but what he did understand was that he had to get the piece of parchment to Dumbledore right away.

ooo

School was passing at a snail's pace for Harry, and by the time there was just a month until the other schools arrived it felt like the whole year had passed. Perhaps it was that no one was actively trying to kill him, but school seemed to go by relatively uneventfully: he listened to Hermione talk about the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, managed to partially throw off the Imperious Curse in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and watched the Professors grow increasingly nervous as the arrival date of the two schools neared. Harry kept a close eye on Snape, who was being particularly foul to him, but the Potions Master did not show any signs of treachery. Then again, in the dream Voldemort had told Wormtail to warn the spy, so Snape _would_ be acting carefully.

Things just weren't quite the same without Ginny, though. He saw even less at Hogwarts than he had over the summer, as they didn't share any classes due to their difference in their years. Harry had to admit that he was doing a horrible job getting over her, and wasn't even sure if it was possible to do so.

Snape had kept Harry after class so that he could lecture him without any interruptions, and so the halls were devoid of students as Harry belatedly made his way to lunch. Rounding a corner he stopped in his tracks, seeing something unexpected: Sirius was standing in front of Dumbledore, the two deep in conversation. It was a quite a surprise to see his godfather; not only had he not seen Sirius since the summer, but before Harry had left Sirius had also told him that he would be unreachable by owl. Slipping back around the corner so that he would not be seen, Harry strained to hear the conversation: they were talking quietly, but as their conversation was the only source of noise in the corridor Harry was able to make out what they were saying.

" — That you knew what it meant," Sirius said. "Peter always had trouble remembering things, so it could be a reminder he wrote to himself."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "But of _what_, is the question. The bone of Lord Voldemort…Peter Pettigrew's hand…Harry Potter's blood, having something to do with the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. Most curious."

"The numbers suggest a list," Sirius said. "I've been thinking about this a lot on the way back from Albania, and the part after 'Riddle's bone', 'Will have access to', that seems like the availability of the bone. Perhaps that means that Harry's blood is available because of the Tournament."

"That takes us into a grim line of thought," Dumbledore said gravely, "because this Tournament is looking to be very, very dangerous."

"And you're sure that he can't get in?" Sirius checked.

"I drew the Age Line myself," Dumbledore said gently. "And perhaps I am being a foolish old man, but I consider Harry's word that he would not attempt to enter stronger a precaution than any charm."

"He's a good kid," Sirius said. "If he told you that he won't enter, he won't enter."

There was a moment of silence before Sirius spoke again.

"I should get going," Sirius said. "I'm meeting Remus within the hour, and then I'm off to the next best guess of his base."

Harry heard a couple of footsteps that meant that Sirius was walking away, and Harry started to walk back the way he had come when Dumbledore spoke.

"Sirius," he said softly. "Be careful. Voldemort would not care for someone trying to unravel his plans and— with no offense to your skills— if he discovers you —"

"Albus, I remember Bellatrix kicking my arse perfectly well," Sirius said, trying to come off casual but with a note of bitterness in his voice. "I can put aside my pride and run if I see her coming after me."

Sirius' footsteps started up once again, getting fainter. Harry headed back the way he came, taking a different path to the Great Hall to avoid bumping into Dumbledore. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he had just overheard, but it sounded like he might be in danger.

Again.

ooo

Despite the school year dragging on, the day that Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived somehow crept up on Harry. And so he found himself in his best robes, standing in a line waiting for the arrival of the other magical schools. The two schools had pulled out all the stops to impress those at Hogwarts: instead of taking the train both schools had opted for more dramatic entrances. The flying carriage of Beauxbatons, initially mistaken for a dragon, was in Harry's opinion outdone by Durmstrang's ship which somehow surfaced from the depths of the lake.

The feast that ensured shortly afterwards was one of the best that Harry had ever tasted; he supposed that the house-elves were being especially diligent with the food preparation now that there were two new schools to impress. The Durmstrang students, including Viktor Krum — who Harry recognized from the World Cup — settled down at the Slytherin table while their Headmaster, Karkaroff, sat by Dumbledore. The students from Beauxbatons were seated with the Ravenclaws; their enormous Headmistress, Madam Maxime, also sat down near Dumbledore.

"You can put your eyes back in your head," Hermione said rather crossly to Ron, who was gaping at a Beauxbatons girl who had just passed.

"She's a _veela_," Ron said, looking at Harry.

"Of course she isn't," Hermione snapped.

"She _is_," Ron insisted. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts."

"I don't know," Harry said distractedly, watching Ginny out of the corner of his eye. "They make them alright at Hogwarts."

Harry's train of thought had been completely derailed when he had started to look at Ginny, and he was focused enough on her that did not register Hermione pointing out that Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch had arrived, or the food vanishing off his plate, or really anything until Dumbledore started to speak.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said with a smile. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin."

ooo

"You gonna put you name in?" Ron asked on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Can't," Harry reminded him. "There's an age limit, remember?"

"You could use your invisibility cloak," Ron suggested.

"Somehow I doubt the Age Line works by sight," Harry said, pausing halfway up the set of stairs he was on as it rotated to the side.

"Right…" Ron said slowly.

"Besides, it'd be nice to have a year without anyone trying to kill me," Harry said.

"I guess," Ron said grudgingly, reluctant to give up on the idea of competing. "What about Karkaroff, though? Did you see him with Moody?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah," Harry said. "It was like he was scared of him."

On that line of thought, Harry realized that Karkaroff wasn't the only adult that Moody had an effect on; while it was not as pronounced on Snape, he quite obviously did not want to be anywhere near the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

As always, there was something going on — Harry just hoped that for once it wasn't anything that involved Voldemort trying to kill him.

ooo

"You look rather miserable," Luna said offhandedly, her eyes closed.

Ginny glanced strangely at her. It was the morning after the goblet had been unveiled and, the two were sitting against a stone wall in a deserted corridor.

"How can you tell what I look like when your eyes have been closed for the past five minutes?" Ginny asked. "And I don't look miserable."

"I don't have to see you to see that you look miserable," Luna said, causing Ginny to frown in confusion.

"Okay, for the sake of the argument let's say that you can see me without seeing me," Ginny said. "Why do I look miserable?"

Ginny had now known Luna for two months, and from experience she was not expecting an answer that made any sort of sense.

"Because of Harry Potter, of course," Luna said, surprising Ginny; that answer made a lot more sense than Ginny wanted to admit.

"Luna, there's nothing I can do about that," Ginny said, not really wanting to get on the subject again: Luna had brought it up and least six times in the past two months.

"Why?" Luna asked.

"Why?" Ginny repeated.

"I just don't quite understand why you can't go up to Harry tonight and tell him that you're sorry," Luna said.

Ginny opened her mouth to say that wasn't possible, and then closed it. The truth was that it _was_ possible; she was pretty sure that Harry would accept her apology. Leaning back against the wall, Ginny sighed.

"Will you stop bugging me about it if I talk to him tonight?" Ginny asked softly.

Luna nodded.

"Alright," Ginny said slowly. "I'll do it."

"That's good," Luna said dreamily. "I'm glad that you're finally starting to think clearly. I was going to have to smear Wrackspurt repellent on your forehead tomorrow to keep them out. It tastes a bit like peanut butter, you know."

Ginny took a long look at Luna, who still had her eyes closed, and looked for any signs of a joke. Detecting none Ginny shook her head, a smile on her face.

"You really are something," she said, and closed her eyes as well. She would need to think long and hard about what to say to Harry.

ooo

"I hope it's Angelina," Ron said to Harry as they finished up desert. "Just not Diggory."

"I don't think he's as awful as you make him out to be," Harry said, helping himself to a small piece of apple pie. "Besides, wouldn't you rather it be him then a Slytherin? I hear they entered Warrington."

"I still wish it could be one of us," Ron grumbled, unwilling to acknowledge Harry's point.

"You saw what happened to Fred and George when they tried to cross the Age Line," Harry reminded him, swallowing the last bite of pie and putting his fork down. "Honestly, I'm fine not entering the Tournament; I've had plenty of excitement over the past three years."

Ron was about to reply when the food vanished and Dumbledore stood up. The talking quickly died down, replaced by an intense feeling of expectancy that almost no one in the Hall seemed to be immune from; Karkaroff and Madame Maxim were certainly not immune from it, and even Ludo Bagman's waving and winking at some of the students seemed to be distracted. Indeed, the only person that Harry could see who did not seem interested was Mr. Crouch, who actually appeared to be almost bored.

"It appears that the goblet is nearly ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore withdrew his wand and swept it across the Hall, and at once all the candles save those inside the pumpkins were extinguished, darkening the Great Hall. It served to increase the dramatic effect; Harry could practically feel the tension in the room. The Goblet of Fire was now the brightest object in the Hall, and the blue-white flames that lapped up from the edges were almost painful to look at.

After a few seconds the flames turned red and sparks started to fly from the goblet. A tongue of fire shot into the air and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out from it, causing the entire Hall to gasp. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it up to the light.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he announced loudly, "is Viktor Krum."

"I don't know why they even bothered brining all the other students," Harry said to Ron, having to yell over the cheering in the Hall. "We all knew it would be him."

As the applause continued and Karkaroff shouted his approval, Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up the Hall, past Dumbledore and along the staff table, disappearing through the door that led into the next chamber.

The noise quickly died down as the goblet turned red again, and everyone's attention focused on it. Another piece of parchment was ejected from it, and once again Dumbledore caught it.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore said clearly, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The applause and cheering starting once more as a girl with long, silver-blond hair stood up — a familiar looking girl.

"Ron, that's the one!" Harry shouted, recognizing Fleur as the one that Ron had taken to the previous night, the one that looked suspiciously like a veela.

Harry noticed that the applause from the male Hogwarts students seemed to be greater for Fleur than it had been for Krum. But when she disappeared into the chamber the Hall was silent once more, the excitement somehow even greater than before. This was the Hogwarts champion, the one that they wanted to hear most.

Once again the goblet turned red and the tongue of flame shot up, delivering another piece of parchment.

"The champion for Hogwarts," he said, and the staff and students of Hogwarts held their breath as one, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" Ron cried out, but no one heard him but Harry, who joined in the deafening applause that was coming from the Hufflepuff table. He had no problem with Cedric, and had in fact been impressed by how well he had taken the loss during the Quidditch match the previous year; if it couldn't be a Gryffindor who would be the champion, than perhaps the next best thing was for it to be a Seeker.

The applause for Cedric lasted far longer than any of the other champions, but Dumbledore seemed willing to allow the celebration to continue. When it finally died down enough so that Dumbledore could speak, long after Cedric had entered the chamber at the back of the room, the Headmaster still needed to raise his voice to make himself heard.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said happily, and the last cheers finally died off. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"

Dumbledore stopped midsentence, his piercing blue eyes suddenly fixed on the goblet, along with everyone else in the Hall. Once again sparks were flying out of it, and for a fourth and unexpected time the flame shot up in the air, expelling a piece of parchment.

As it fluttered down and Dumbledore automatically caught it, Harry felt a thrill of foreboding. Only three names should have come out of the goblet, and he had a bad feeling about it, and wanted Dumbledore to cast the singed parchment back into the flames, not read it.

Holding it high, Dumbledore stared at the name written, stared for a long time. No one dared to move, or even to breath. Finally Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke the name, far more softly than any of the other announcements.

"Harry Potter."

ooo

_A/N: It was going to end the chapter much later, but I decided to stop here in the interest of getting it up. Chapter 22 should hopefully have less canon scenes in it. Oh, and I made up the name of the village in Albania; any similarities to an actual village/city is purely coincidental. _

_As always, criticism/pointing out mistakes can be very helpful in the writing process, so if you notice anything or have any comments please say so. I think there may be too many commas in here…oh well._


End file.
